Totentanz
by Sarastro the Queen o the Night
Summary: Totentanz, German. Dance of the dead. He was blessed, yes. Most bastard children would have been drowned. But the curses would come later. Being Crown Prince of a magical land could do that.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Because this is what happens when I go on a Disney kick while watching too many versions of the musical "Elisabeth." This starts.

So, this is very different from every other story I've read, but it's got the same elements, just twisted into something disturbing.

The names are me butchering German names so it fits with everything else. However, titles are the same of the Wittelsbach, the family that this is based off of. Numbers of siblings and children are accurate. The titles are half normal and half in Hungarian, because I've been watching too many _Hungarian _musicals as well.

Also, I own nothing of Disney.

* * *

><p>The Countess (formerly Hercegnő) Ludovika Witternsbal and the County Machim Witternsbal of the Salt Lands were not known to be overly faithful to each other, especially after the birth of their ninth and last child, the little Duchess Agulstine. She was a child with a weak mind, just like the rest of them and that drove a wedge between the two.<p>

Countess Ludovika took to travelling outside of their native land, in the foreign golden sands where she had to wear coverings on her hair to hide the tiny jeweled horns (males had larger horns) and not let anyone see her feet with its distinctive pointed heel, while County Machim traversed their own land, studying his own existence and societal differences among the races. Their children remained in their castle, safe from the Wind Jackals that hunted in the bluffs near their home.

However, once Ludovika returned, she was carrying a tiny bundle safe in her arms. Her eldest daughter, Amali, greeted her first, and stared down at it.

"Mother," she said. "What is that?"

"This is your newest brother," said Ludovika. And she swept off, leaving Amali there, astounded. So, she hurried to where her brother was studying magic and knocked on the door.

"Enter," he called. Upon entering, Leeno, the eldest son, looked up and smiled. "Hello Amali. Here to spare me my studies?"

"Not exactly," Amali said, kneeling down across from him on the low table. "Mother has returned."

"Wonderful!"

"But she has brought someone with her."

"Who? Oh, has Uncle Lud finally gone off the deep end and Cousin Talia is living with us?"

"No…no, she says we have a new brother. But Father and Mother haven't been together in ages…"

"No, she did not lie with a human!" said Leeno, shocked, his ears (the only visible sign of their father's tie to elfish blood) flattening against his head.

"What else could explain it? Our kind does not exist outside of this land, we all know this. What else could it have been?" Leeno let out a frustrated growl, and surged to his feet.

"I need to speak with mother." And he was gone.

* * *

><p>Ludovika was infatuated with her newest child. She had lain with a human, yes, but he had been so kind and so handsome. Yes, he had been engaged to a nice human woman, but he had seen her pointed teeth and had grown curious.<p>

And now Ludovika had a brand new and beautiful son. She had tested his mind herself, and it was resilient and would not break like anyone else in their family. Such a handsome baby too, giggling and laughing.

"Aren't you just _precious!_" she cooed. The nurse for the family, Nell, was sitting with her in the nursery, bouncing baby Agulstine on her knee. Agulstine was two years old, but still a baby to Nell.

"He is handsome, for being half human," said Nell, her skin shining like a hummingbird's feathers as she cocked her head to get a better look at the boy. "What did you say his name is?"

"Mozenrath," said Ludovika, tickling her laughing baby. Nell nodded, but thought to herself; _"His name is too similar to his brother's. Who would want to live in the shadow of Nalzenrath? Too big a shadow, too dark."_

"Mother?" The two women looked up at the new voice, and saw Ludovika's eldest son, Leeno, standing there.

"Leeno!" said Ludovika, standing with a smile. "Are you here to see your newest brother?"

"Mother, I came to ask where he came from! Why did you lie with a human?"

"Hush, darling, you'll upset Mozenrath."

"He has a name."

"Of course he has a name. What else would we call him? 'It'? Besides, you cannot pass judgment without knowing the man."

"Then tell me about him, Mother."

"Let me put your brother down for a nap first. And if it will pacify you at all, look here." She angled Mozenrath's head towards her eldest son, parting the wispy black hair to show where the beginning traces of jeweled horns were already peering through the skin. Leeno's hand went to his own horns, rather impressive horns thank you.

"So he is like us."

"We are not genetically recessive, my son." Passing the baby to Nell, she took her son's arm and asked, "Where is Mathilde?"

"She is with Kal at the Chiem. They're looking for shells." And they made their way to the Possenhof Bay in the huge oasis they were built by, directly next to the waterfall.

And indeed, on the shore, barefoot with a chaperone, were two of Ludovika's children. They were titled since birth as they all were; the Duke Kal Teonar Witternsbahl in Breyr and the Duchess Mathilde Ludovika Witternsbahl in Breyr (Breyr being the providence the Salt Lands were in).

"Children!" she called. They turned, and their chaperone bowed in greeting to the Countess and Duke, future Count. "Children, I want to talk to you." The two ran to her, their clothes still held above their knees and barefoot.

"What is it, Mama?" asked Kal. Mathilde and Kal were among the youngest of the nine, now ten. They would be the first to accept their newest brother.

"I'm happy you're back, Mama," said Mathilde.

"As I am happy to be back, darling. Now, children, when I was out there in the other lands, do you know who I met?"

"Was it a prince?"

"I bet it was a _Genie!_" said Kal. Leeno smiled at his siblings. They were so innocent, only seven and six years old.

"It was a human," said Ludovika. "And he was very nice. I had to keep my horns and feet covered, because no human looks like us."

"Because we're Crystalline Horn, Elf, and Selkie!" said Kal (he had learned about it, and was proud to tell anyone who he knew about how a Selkie Lord had been the father of his great-great-great-great grandfather).

"Indeed," said Leeno. "But how about we let mother finish her story?" the two fell obediently silent and Ludovika smiled at him.

"Now, this human man saw my horns because a parrot thought my _hijaab_ was pretty and stole it right off my head. But he was only curious about them. We spent a lot of time together, and do you know what?"

"What?" asked Mathilde.

"We had a child."

"You had a kid with someone who isn't Papa?"

"Why?" asked Kal.

"Yes, mother, why would you do that?" asked Leeno.

Ludovika shot him a look and said, "Because I thought I loved him. He saw me as a curiosity, but I thought just long enough that I loved him. _But,_ the child is the most wonderful half-human baby I've ever seen with a strong mind and strong magic. And I love him. He's just as much mine as you are. Please help me explain this to your siblings?"

"Of course! And Papa too!" declared Mathilde. "I want to meet him!"

* * *

><p>And so, by the time Count Machim returned to Castle Possenhof, baby Mozenrath was already beloved by his nine siblings. Upon the Count's return, he was welcomed by his children and his oddly affectionate wife, before someone brought up Mozenrath.<p>

He took it badly.

"I know we haven't been the happiest couple since Agulstine, but a _human, _Ludovika? A human! Am I so little to you?" he raged, pacing their shared room.

"No, Machim, I love you! I know that now!" she said. "I was used by that human. He made me think that he loved me and I thought I loved him. But it's done, Machim! I will never go back there as long as I live and I swear that to you!" she went to him and held him. "Please."

He was still angry, but he could not stay long at her for long, nine children had proved that. "I want to see this child."

She took his hand and led him to the nursery, where Mozenrath was asleep. She picked him up, and he did not wake. Machim took him into his arms, watching the little boy. His fingers found the beginnings of the horns, the feet with the oddly shaped heel distinctive of the elves, and the pale skin that everyone in their land had grown to have.

The only hint that he was human was the nose, a straight nose he had never seen on the face of anyone in the land, the round ears, and the fingernails, which were present.

"He truly is of our blood," said Machim softly.

"Yes, he is mine. And now he is yours," said Ludovika. He looked up at her a moment, and held the baby closer.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath grew up. His father had given him two more names and had named him his child, so now he was Duke Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl in Beyr, the youngest child of the Count of the Salt Lands. His father grew more and more fond of him until he was the man's favorite, doted on but never spoiled.<p>

They started calling him "Mimzy" (thanks to his father) and he gave his sister a nickname, Duchess Hélené Carlio Teren Witternsbahl of Beyr becoming simply "Néné" because "Hélené" was too hard for him.

It was in the twenty seventh year that Lord Destane was king that Mozenrath turned six years old. Upon his sixth birthday he and his sister three years his elder, Hélené, went to visit their Uncle, Király Machimil Josep Witternsbahl, in his Nympen Palace by the capital of Beyr.

It was there that Mozenrath met the one he would keep in close confidence the rest of his life, his cousin, Herceg Lud Ott Friederik Witternsbahl. The two boys became inseparable, talking until all hours of the night and running through the gardens. They went riding, escorted of course, until the sun set, and within the four weeks they were in Nympen, Mozenrath grew a reputation of fondness for and skill on horses.

When they returned to Possenhof, they were greeted by their father, who promptly bought Mozenrath a brand new mare (tame so she wouldn't hurt his son) and took him out in a boat to see the swarms of eels in the Chiem, his favorite animal.

And that autumn, when the eels' mating season was over and the new eggs were being protected by the females, Mozenrath's brother five years his elder, Duke Wim Kal Witternsbahl in Beyr, grew horribly sick.

Mozenrath was kept out of the sickroom no matter how he begged, because his immune system (being half human) was weak and he fell ill far more often than any of his family had at his age.

Finally, five days after the solstice, Wim Kal died. The fever had plagued his body and no doctor, medical nor magical, could cure him.

His mother fell into despair, and everyone had to wear red, the color of blood and therefore mourning, for a whole year. And Mozenrath was sad too, but not as much as his siblings. Wim had always held him at a bit of a distance, he was extremely pious, and his mother's adultery had never sat well with him.

His third eldest brother, Nalzenrath, took up hunting, spending _ages_ away at the hunting lodges. His sister Hélené took him into the studies she had been in so often lately and taught him little magic tricks, telling him that the color of their magic told them how powerful it was to keep his mind off of their brother (his magic was bluish green, hers was violet). His sister four years older, Mathilde, weaved, his parents spent hours in the chapel praying, and everyone knew something heavy settled over the Castle Possenhof.

* * *

><p>Nalzenrath died in a hunting accident not six months after Wim died. The news came the same day that one of the ships on the Chiem mistook Possenhof Bay for the port a few miles down the beach, County Machim learning literally the moment he got onto dry land after helping move the ship out of where it was caught.<p>

"Nalzenrath is dead!" Ludovika wailed, throwing herself into his arms. Machim caught his wife, holding her tight, horrified. He lost two sons, and that is a crushing blow to anyone, noble or not.

But, once the year was up, Mozenrath was happy to finally get out of the red clothes, going instead to the blue he liked so much. He, at seven, was already known for being a child who wanted his own way and was upset when he couldn't.

Both his brothers were buried in the castle chapel, and he left them seashells every day, not flowers because neither liked flowers. Hélené still spent most of her time in the studies, practicing magic and language (both of which he liked quite a bit and was pretty good at) and Mozenrath could not understand why.

So, he asked his father about it, when he took Mozenrath, Mathilde, Kal, and Agulstine out to the Chiem to look for shells and play. "Papa," he asked, "why is Néné always in the studies? Why doesn't she want to play with us?"

"Hélené is preparing for something very big, Mimzy," said Machim, picking up Mathilde and swinging her over a large puddle in the sand. He picked up Mozenrath and did the same for him. "Best not disturb her.

"But she gets to learn Arabic! Why can't I?"

"You will, Mimzy. When you're older."

"I'm seven years old!"

"And your sister is ten years old. Be patient. Kal! Kal, step away from that tidepool!" and Machim ran ahead, pulling his son away.

"It's not so bad, Mimzy," said Agulstine, taking his hand and walking with him. "I still can't speak Arabic. Mama says I start my lessons next year."

"I have to wait? But I love languages!" said Mozenrath. Agulstine frowned at him, and hugged him.

"I hate them. I'd let you learn for me if I could."

And so the rest of the day was spent on the shores.

* * *

><p>When Mozenrath turned eight, he found a little eel stranded on the beach, slowly dying. He had gone to the Chiem with just an escort, escaping his visitingrelatives, Hercegnő Amali Agulst Wettin in Sek and Herceg Jol Wettin in Sek (Mozenrath's uncle had too long a name for him to ever try to remember. Even in adulthood, he could not be called upon to recite all fifteen names of his uncle Jol).<p>

The eel was gasping, flapping to get to the water. Mozenrath, uncaring about the fine blue and black clothes he was wearing, took it, and ran waist deep into the water, depositing the eel in the water. It lay there, still in his hands for about thirty seconds, long enough to Mozenrath to believe that it was dead and long enough for his escort to go in after the young Duke.

However, the eel soon moved, swimming about the two before poking its head out of the water.

"You're a longfin!" gasped Mozenrath in recognition.

Longfin eels were rare in the Chiem, since he was five and the Giant Mottled Eels had had a larger birth rate. However, the Longfins could live up to a hundred years and were known for their magic. One of Mozenrath's favorite times of year was in the winter, when the male Longfins returned to the freshwater in the east. He would sit with his family by the waterfall, and watch as hundreds of the eels flew right out of the falling waters, soaring through the air and out of sight.

"Highness, come along," said his escort. "You did a good deed, saving its life, but now—ah!" he cut himself off when the eel squirted water at him, catching him in the eye. Mozenrath burst out laughing. The eel splashed him too, but only a little.

"Can you understand us?" he asked.

"Yes," said the eel. Occasionally the magic in them allowed them to talk, but it was rare. "My name is Xerxes. Who are you?"

"I am Duke Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl in Beyr. But my family calls me Mimzy."

"And we must be going back," said his escort more forcefully, his eye still closed. "Truly, highness, you need to get out of these clothes now and wash."

"No. And I'm a Duke so I get say-so," said the boy, before turning to the eel again. "How did you get on the beach?"

"Wave. I got caught by surprise. Thank you for saving me."

"Of course! My father and I go sailing often, just so I can see eels like you."

"You like us?"

"I love your species! Especially longfins."

"Marble eels are cruel. I don't like them."

"They scare me a bit," admitted Mozenrath. "They're longer than my mother is tall!" The eel, Xerxes, grinned, a strange sight but not too bad of one, and rose out of the water, flying in a tight circle around Mozenrath before settling on his shoulder.

"I like you," said the eel. "May I stay with you? I have no mate."

"I would love you too! But I'm only eight, so I need to ask my family first."

"And to do that we need to go back. Come along," said Mozenrath's escort, splashing to herd the boy back to shore. Picking up the boy's shoes from where they had been dropped when the Duke had ran into the salt water, he hurried him back to the Castle.

* * *

><p>After washing and changing, Mozenrath went to dinner, Xerxes laying on his shoulder again, his tail flicking the boy's elbow every minute or two.<p>

"Mimzy, what is that?" asked his eldest sister Amali, causing everyone to look.

"My word, is that an eel?" asked Aunt Amali, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"Yes, Aunt Amali. He's an eel," said Mozenrath, sitting at his place, Xerxes moving to lay on the chair behind him. "His name is Xerxes. He's thirty four and doesn't have a mate. This was his first migration."

"Pleasure to have you, Xerxes," said Machim calmly, looking up from his meal.

"Pleasure to be here," said Xerxes, inclining his head. Mozenrath turned and grinned at the meal.

"He asked if he could stay here, Papa," said Mozenrath. "May he? Please?"

"Your son is a very nice boy. He saved my life and I'd like to return the favor."

"Well…he is polite," said Leeno, blinking at the eel.

"I believe that decision is your parents'," said Uncle Jol, simply taking a bite of fish.

"Ludovika?" asked Machim. The Countess folded her hands (always a sign of interrogation) and turned to her youngest son.

"Mozenrath. You have wanted for nothing in your life thus far. Lessons on magic, art, music, dancing, and etiquette, fine clothes, a small boat for yourself, a tame mare, toys to play with and trips to the beach of the Chiem whenever you want. Tell me, my son. Do you truly need the company of this eel you saved?" she asked.

Mozenrath's siblings, the seven that remained alive, looked away to let him make his choice without pressure, his aunt and uncle's nine children staring either at the boy or the eel. "Well…" started Mozenrath, "I don't _need_ his company, but he's nice and he can talk and fly and live outside of water when he's prepared, and…well, in my magic lessons, it's always said that a good sorcerer needs a familiar to bond with. That each lends the other magic and makes a sorcerer more powerful. So, I…we were thinking that maybe he could be my familiar?"

There was silence at the table before one of Mozenrath's oldest cousins, Alber (he had fourteen names, all his cousins there had far too many names for young Mozenrath to remember), said, "Having a familiar at such a young age is a good thing. They can grow and bond together."

"You make a good point, nephew," said Ludovika. "Very well, Mimzy. Xerxes may stay. _But_ you must keep water for him to be in and you may not feed him everything you don't want to eat."

And so Mozenrath got a familiar of his favorite species in the world. They were instantly close, Xerxes eating what Mozenrath couldn't stomach at that time (he could not have dairy when he was six, and now he was beginning to feel ill from red meat). During lessons, the eel would tell the boy things and he would struggle not to laugh while his history teacher told all about the Great Slaughter that led to their land being the only one with all the species that made up his heritage "excluding humans of course. You are an exotic young one in that regard, highness." It truly would be bad to burst into laughter while his tutor was talking about the rounding up and slaughter of every elf, faun, and centaur outside of their land.

* * *

><p>When Mozenrath was nine, there was to be a grand gathering of nine of his mother's ten siblings and their families (that was thirty eight cousins and fifty seven people in Castle Possenhof in total!). So, County Machim, being an only child, decided that he would flee, travelling for a month in the far north of their land, to study the matrimonial ceremonies of the half-man-half-snake species in the northern mountains. Xerxes had fled to the Chiem to meet with his kind with some half-baked story about how if he got there early for mating season there may be more of a chance to find a mate (there was something in there too about two females, Amestris and Atossa, who might be willing to mate with him but Mozenrath didn't care).<p>

His father was leaving the day of the gathering, so Mozenrath slipped away from Nell and found his father.

"Mama's siblings are coming today," he said, having pounced upon his father.

"Indeed they are," agreed Machim.

"Nell says that I can't avoid it, that I can't go climb the cherry tree or go to the Chiem. Why can't I go with you, Papa?"

"Because you can't."

"But I love to do everything you do! Riding, writing poems…please?"

"No. Besides, life goes too quickly. I don't have enough time to get bored with family gatherings. _You _are nine, you have time and more to have one afternoon of boredom."

"But…I could carry your Zither for you!"

"No, Mimzy. Be brave, I'll be back." And he kissed the boy's head, and left the room, Nodding to Nell's questioning glance. The nurse went inside and found the boy still standing there.

"Come along, my little Duke," she said. "We have family to meet."

"I hate it. When I grow up, I am going to join the circus. I could ride horses or dance on the tightrope," said Mozenath with absolute certainty.

Nell smiled and said, "I'm sure you will. But for now you are a Duke in Beyr and you have family to see. Your cousin Lud will be there." And that got Mozenrath running.

* * *

><p>Indeed the boy was there, so they stood away from the rest as far as they could, Mozenrath telling his cousin all about saving Xerxes and how the eel had become one of his best friends. Lud told him about how his parents were <em>already <em>looking for someone for him to marry and he really didn't want to, but he was the eldest so he had to.

"I hate it when our parents keep talking about getting married," said Lud, kicking at a pebble. "You're lucky you're the youngest of your family."

"I guess. But Néné has been learning Arabic! I want to, everyone tells me how we're the only desert that doesn't speak it. How can I go and meet other humans if I can't communicate with them?"

"Do you want to?" aske Lud, cocking his head so the weak sunlight caught his horns, making rainbows on the ground (not that Mozenrath was jealous that his own horns were barely visible through his black curls. No, not at all).

"Well, I guess I want to see what they're like. I mean, if you were half…half Selkie like our how many greats grandfather. Wouldn't you want to see what Selkies are like?"

"I guess. Mimzy, do you know why your mother called us all here?"

"I have no idea. Mama didn't tell me much. But I think it has something to do with Néné." Lud shrugged. "Do you want to see how high I can climb in that tree? Nell isn't here, I can show you." Lud smiled, and the boys hurried to the tree, just by where Ludovika was talking to everyone. Mozenrath started climbing, and as Lud watched he could hear snatches.

"…That's the king's assistant!"

"…in Ischl?"

"…believe…"

"Hélené, apprentice to Lord Destane? Unthinkable!" that was his father, his voice always carried so…wait.

"Mimzy!" he called up. The other boy looked down. "Hélené is going to be Lord Destane's apprentice! She's going to be Lady Reagent of the entire kingdom when he dies!"

"She's going to what? Tell me later!" he called down, unable to hear. And he continued to climb.

"Lud!" said his mother, Mari. "Lud, did you…Mozenrath!" and her cry called all the others over.

"Mimzy, don't go so high!" called Cousin Théoli (Hercegnő).

"Mozenrath get down here now, you're going to break your neck!" shouted up Ludovika, terrified. Her son had never climbed so high!

"He must think he's in a circus!" said one of the Uncles, Herceg Kal.

But Mozenrath was just happy for the audience, continuing to climb. However, he accidentally grabbed a bad branch, falling with a scream, hitting the ground hard.

* * *

><p>He came to in a bed surrounded by worried faces. Upon the opening of his eyes, there was a collective sigh of relief. "We thought you were dying!" said one of the cousins' children, Machimala (future Countess with no brothers). Her mother, Countess Mali, hushed her.<p>

"There…there was a man," Mozenrath was saying, his voice soft and hoarse. "He…wasn't a man. No, no, he was…he was Death, but he wasn't like in the paintings. He looked like…like…"

"Here, Mimzy, drink this," said Ludovika, handing him a glass. "Just rest. You've had a nasty fall and broken your ankle. It will heal quickly, Leeno's gone to fetch a doctor of magic." Mozenrath took the drink and only sipped as much as he could before he lay back.

"Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have climbed the tree."

"It's in the past," insisted Mathilde, holding his hand. "Just sleep."

"Lud…Lud was trying to tell me something. What was it?"

"It was about your sister," said Lud, pulling from his mother's gentle grip. "Your mother was saying why she's been studying so much."

"Your sister and I are going to Ischl later this year," said Ludovika, brushing back her son's hair. "We're going to meet with your aunt Sotkia. Lord Destane is looking for an apprentice and an heir. So, since Hélené has very powerful magic—"

"It's violet," said Mozenrath, still slightly disconnected thanks to the fall. "Very powerful."

"Exactly. So, Sotkia wants Hélené to meet Lady Ottilia. She's going to see if she's fit to be Destane's apprentice."

"So that's what this was about. Now I know why she was practicing so much."

"I've been preparing for three years," said Hélené. "Since just before Wim died."

"I'm happy for you, Néné," said Mozenrath, before lying down all the way. "I'm tired."

"Then sleep, Mimzy. We're still here. We'll wake you when the doctor comes," assured Ludovika, pressing a kiss to the place between her son's dwarf horns.

And with that, the young Duke Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl in Beyr fell into deep sleep filled with the feeling of being in his boat on the Chiem.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Welcome to the madness. This has been stewing in my brain for a while and messed me up. But I'm going to continue this.

Xerxes is based off the New Zealand Longfin eel. They're AWESOME. They live in fresh water and then swim to salt water to reproduce, they have no reproductive organs until they reach salt water. No one knows how they mate, but the females lay between one and five MILLION eggs.

Sorry, that's my rant on eels. I freaking _love_ eels.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Here we are with chapter two. I don't have much to say except that the God Amm was one of the many nature gods to the Arab peoples before Islam (Allah was the rain god before that while "Hubal" was the chief of the gods). Amm was the moon god who was also related to lightning and weather.

I do not own anything recognizable.

* * *

><p>Lady Ottilia Josep Dóra Habens was a figure head. An elf and the Crown Princess of the proud house of Habens, she came to power at only six, a toddler barely able to sit up by herself, after her father lost his life in the Civilian War. It had been a brief but very violent war in the west that had killed many. Her first year of reign had been solely by name, her mother, the Dowager Lady Reagent Dóra Habens, had actually ruled their land. And then Destane had come.<p>

It would have been a Tyranny, but he had named intention to marry her once she came of age. As an elf, she spent more time in youth, something humans thirsted for. So, it was accepted, and once Ottilia turned thirteen, they were married. And until this time, there had still been guidance by those her mother had chosen to help guide her before she was killed by Destane.

At their marriage (she still shuddered at the memory) all her advisors had been fired and Destane became the real power behind the throne, masking it with intellectual pursuits, filling the library at Citadel Ortenburg with texts on dark magic and its many forbidden uses. Parlors converted to laboratories and beginning to search for an apprentice.

The entirety of the land knew about how he was truly in power, but they still loved their Lady, now thirty seven and not even out of puberty yet. They went to her and never her husband, hoping that she would be able to convince Destane that he did not fully grasp their situation, whatever it was.

Each day there was an audience for that exact purpose, and each day Destane sat beside her at her desk, murmuring what he expected her to do to her. Such was the current situation.

"Who is next?" she asked, handing the papers she had just sighed to Sotkia Witternsbahl, her husband's assistant (poor family, they would soon lose a second daughter to court).

"The Cardinal Archbischoff," said Destane distractedly, flipping a page in his book, twisting his hand in a certain way. And indeed, the man in charge of the beautiful Mosque of God Amm entered.

"Majesty," he greeted with a bow, before handing some papers to the woman saying, "the followers of Amm wish to institute schools in the smaller villages in the south. Our Oracle tells us that if they are not educated, another Civilian War may emerge." Ottilia sat silently for just a moment, listening for her husband, but when he stayed silent, she nodded and signed saying,

"So it shall be."

"May Amm protect you and your land." Sotkia took the papers in silence. The Cardinal Archbischoff left, as a woman in fine clothing with pointed ears, one of the ladies of court, entered, distressed.

"Majesty," she said, simply going to her knees. "My son loves freedom and now he's been imprisoned."

"As he should be," said Destane. Ottilia turned to him a moment before turning back to the woman. She recognized her now, it was the Duchess Sulwa, strange for her Arabic name. Ah yes, her son, Duke Olfga, had been thrown into jail for treason and was to die in two weeks time.

"Mercy, majesties, mercy! Whatever he has done, he does not deserve to die!" Ottilia stood and went to the Duchess telling her,

"If I could do what I wanted to do…"

"Be severe," said Destane softly, setting down his book and picking up a scroll.

"I would not have to rule like a good queen."

"Be strong. Be cold."

Ottilia touched the shoulder of the woman. "I could show you love and mercy like I want." She stood and backed up towards the desk, her golden dress swishing slightly.

"Be hard, Ottilia."

The Lady took a deep breath and declared, "Denied." Duchess Sulwa was taken from the room screaming. Ottilia sat down, forcing herself to hold her head high.

"You are a good queen, Ottilia. You take threats to yourself seriously," praised Destane.

"What other business?" asked Ottilia, turning to Sotkia. The woman looked at a paper and said,

"Your general wishes to speak to you about the political standpoint of our country." The queen nodded, and a female centaur, named Bru, entered.

"Majesties," she greeted with an impressive bow for being half horse. "The war in Getizstan is threatening its neighboring kingdoms, including us. It's unavoidable, we cannot stay impartial and remain in our own land anymore. Getizstan lent us troops while the Civilian War was going on thirty-one years ago. It's time that we pay our debt, and they have agreed to return the bit of land they stole from us one hundred years ago."

"Enticing," said Destane. "But perhaps we should have a second opinion on the matter?"

"Brigadier-General?" prompted Ottilia of the male faun beside Bru. Upon her asking of the faun and not the Crystalline Horned woman on Bru's other side, Destane touched her wrist, a sign of approval.

"If we stand with Getizstan, then we will also have to engage in politics with all of our other neighbors. The Magician Jafar of Agrabah will want to have a bit of our power and we cannot let that happen, majesties," said the Brigadier-General, Amad. "That is why we have cut off all contact to Agrabah. But if we ally with their enemy, then Getizstan will grow furious. Either way, alliance is a deadly move."

"We have to decide!" snapped Bru.

"The Lady of the Black Sands has to do _nothing!_" snapped Destane, standing.

"We will remain impartial. Let us reclaim this land in another way at a later time," said Ottilia mildly.

"A perfect solution!" praised Sotkia. "Now, majesties, Castle Pyrbaum in Ischl is waiting…"

"The audience is over," declared Destane.

"But there's still so much to discuss!" said Bru, floundering. "What about—"

"War is for others. Our blessed land does not have those issues. We are saved by my wife. Now all of you, she must prepare for her journey." And he and all the rest left Ottilia and Sotkia. The minute the door closed, Ottilia let out a heavy sigh, dropping her head into her arms.

"My lady…" started Sotkia.

"Give me but a moment, Sotkia. We will prepare in just a moment," said the elf. With a great heaving sigh, she raised her head, wiping away a stray tear. "Come, let us meet your niece." And she stood, holding her right arm close to her, as though in protection.

* * *

><p>Count Machim had made his excuses (as always, and Ludovika had merely laughed and kissed him) and would not be accompanying them to Ischl. So, after much begging, Mozenrath was allowed to go with them.<p>

Ischl was very far away from the Salt Lands, and Mozenrath had never been outside of Beyr before. This was an adventure for him, and he wanted to explore Ischl, it was a spa town with beautiful mountains, but his mother said that they had to stay at Pyrbaum at least for the moment. She would find him an escort to show him Ischl later.

However, when they finally arrived at Pyrbaum, they were greeted by their Aunt Sotkia. She went and embraced Ludovika saying, "Good to see you sister. _But _why are you so late?"

"There was a flood, the roads were bad and we came fast as we could," said Ludovika. "May we rest?"

"No, sister, you cannot. Lady Ottilia is expecting you at four!"

"So soon?"

"I'm afraid so. And who is this?"

"Machim couldn't come, so we brought Mimzy instead," said Ludovika, mentioning of his name making him look up from where he was examining a beetle with Xerxes on his shoulder. "And that is his familiar, the longfin eel Xerxes."

"I see…and Hélené?" she turned to the elder girl and said, "That dress is completely inappropriate!"

"I can change!" insisted Hélené, hands clutching at the white cloth.

"There's no time. Lady Ottilia isn't one to wait." With an apologetic smile, Sotkia led them into the castle, and out into the gardens where they were to meet with the Lady of the Black Sands.

The Lady approached, looking far, far too noble for her thirty seven years. She wasn't even fully grown yet!

They sat, Sotkia and Ludovika talking a lot, Ottilia completely silent. It unnerved Hélené, who began shifting subtly in her seat. Finally, Sotkia turned to the young queen and said, "What do you think, my lady?"

The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear and said, "A stronger mind and very strong magic. This evening I will contact my husband and tell him he has an apprentice."

"Then why don't you tell them that?" Ottilia looked at Sotkia, apparently lost. "Go and embrace your heir." Ottilia stood, as did the rest of them, and started towards Hélené. And then, she went and took the hands of Mozenrath. "Him?"

"Come along, child," said Lady Ottilia gently. "We have much to do." And she led the boy away, the eel going after them.

"Three years of planning, gone," said Sotkia, dropping to sit. Hélené was still standing there, shocked.

"Three years of studying wasted…" the Duchess managed, her voice soft and weak.

Ludovika sighed and said, "Come along, Néné, let's go get you a place to lie down for the moment…" she took her daughter's arm and helped back into the castle, Sotkia following.

* * *

><p>Ottilia called Mozenrath to meet her in the sun room overlooking the rose gardens the next day. The boy and his eel got there early, playing until Lady Ottilia appeared. She stood in the doorway, watching them. She took a breath, her own youth had been stolen, and she was forced to be at least sixty, not thirty.<p>

"Mozenrath," she said softly, calling the boy's attention. He scrambled to his feet from where he had been on his stomach and bowed. "Mozenrath, you are my formal heir now, please rise." And so he did.

"Must I call you 'Mama' then?" he asked.

"No. A formal heir holds the title of Crown Prince, but is not treated as family. But please, come sit with me." She went to a low table and knelt on one side, Mozenrath rushing to do the same across from her. "Child, there is much you must understand. You will never be as alone as you were with your family. The youngest child of Count Machim, you enjoyed freedoms there you cannot have again. Life is not like in the Salt Lands back in Citadel Ortenburg."

"It doesn't matter," said Mozenrath, believing each word he said. "Not to me at least."

"Many things you know will come to an end."

"But you'll be there, and you're very nice, Lady Ottilia. If I lose strength, I have Xerxes to help me. See? It won't be bad."

"You'll be unable to fulfill many of your dreams."

"I'll dream up new ones." Ottilia couldn't help but smile.

"The royal family is very different from the lesser nobles."

"Well, I'm half human. So I'm different from everyone else in the entire country too! I can adapt, that's what humans do."

"Yes, I can't argue with you there." She then reached into her pocket and pulled out a red jewel. "Do you see this? Keep this with you always. It will mark you as our Prince." She handed it to him.

"It's beautiful! But heavy." The eel nosed it, and then drew back, agreeing with the boy.

"If you need help holding it, you can always ask me, Mimzy." The boy smiled. "There is much planning to do before you can join me in Ortenburg. But I think you will join us soon enough." And she ruffled his hair, her fingers catching on the dwarf horns. She looked surprised they were there, but she said nothing, leaving the boy and the eel to go to Countess Ludovika and show her the beautiful jewel.

* * *

><p>It was in Spring the following year, Mozenrath nearly ten years of age that he went with his family to Citadel Ortenburg in the east, to the city closest to their border. It too was named Ortenburg, after the Citadel that had been built over two hundred years previous.<p>

Six-thirty in the evening the ceremony swearing the boy in began. He was dressed in a flowing white robe that was so heavy an attendant had to carry it so he could walk to the altar at the front of the Citadel's Chapel.

He didn't like being the center of so much attention, he knew that hundreds were at the door of the Citadel, waiting for the ceremony to be done and the announcement made. And in the chapel dozens were squeezed and it was too hot. And he could see his father frowning.

He took a steadying breath and knelt at the altar like he had been told, answering the questions and making oaths. And then, finally, Lord Destane (just as impressive as everyone had told him) said in his imperious voice that rang deep over everyone, "If it is your will to enter this contract, answer with 'yes.'"

Mozenrath rose and said in a voice as sure as he could be, "Yes."

And upon that, a deep bell tolled, and they could hear people cheering very faintly. There was applause from the courtiers and a faint smile from the noble and still face of Lady Ottilia. They were led out to the ballroom (such a beautiful room, he had heard about it-who hadn't?) to celebrate while outside they knew the common people would celebrate with bonfires and drink and dancing until morning.

However, all Mozenrath could hear was that very faint laughter he had heard the moment he had agreed in his most solemn voice. It had been faint, hidden under the bell and the applause, but now it rang loud in the new Crown Prince's ears, drowning out everything. A man's laugh that made Mozenrath want to run to his mother.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath didn't see it, but his father and his Aunt Sotkia met just outside of the ballroom, the Count pulling the woman aside and saying, "This ceremony has been your doing. Are you happy?"<p>

"No," said Sotkia shortly. "But I congratulate you."

"Don't you _dare._ My son has become an idiot, he doesn't fit here, he should run away to the circus like he wanted."

"And I am well aware of that. The boy plays with an _eel_ for goodness' sake. Machim, believe me, I tried to talk Lady Ottilia out of it, but she would not hear me."

"He doesn't have what he needs to have all these responsibilities. He doesn't _fit!_" Sotkia fixed him with a look before saying,

"As if I don't know. I know very well what one needs to thrive here. Few have it. Not even our queen." She took his hand. "I will do my best. But I cannot do too much." And then she entered the ballroom.

Mozenrath, the center of all of this, didn't hear any of it, any of the gossip that pierced the celebration. Indeed, he was intimidated about his new life, and he was a bit put out about how he was not permitted to dance at his own party, but he could not hear the courtiers talking.

"Such a young boy, what a pity he has to come here," one woman said to another.

"I think he's sweet," the other said to the first.

"What do you think of him?" asked a man as he spun a woman under his arm.

"Naïve," she responded.

"I think he's going to melt like butter in the sun here," sighed a man.

"He's of the Witternsbahl family, yes? Oh, poor boy. He'll be driven to madness early," said a man to his brother.

No, Mozenrath heard none of this. He was instead talking to his beloved cousin Lud, but only long enough for the boy to say his congratulations before Destane sent him away.

"No more of your old life, my boy," he said. "You're Crown Prince, not Duke."

"But I…" started Mozenrath. At a look from those dark eyes flashing in warning, he merely murmured, "Yes, sir."

But, when he managed to find his father, he saw the disappointment in the man's eyes and told him, "I'll make you proud of me, Papa, I promise! I'll be the best sorcerer in the world, and I'll tell the world that I'm doing it all for you, the best father of them all!"

And Machim's eyes softened. "I'm certain you will. Now I believe Lord Destane is looking for you." And Mozenrath ran back to the man, not wanting to cause a scene at his first real big party.

The party lasted until midnight, where the adults left the ballroom either to their rooms or to the inns where they were staying. Mozenrath had been sent to bed two hours before, but it was still later than his parents had let him sleep. Ottilia had taken him and had said, "Sleep well. You had a big day today. Rest tomorrow, alright?" He had nodded with a smile. "Your lessons with my husband begin the day after tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

><p>Mozenrath was woken by Sotkia, who offered him a weak smile before gesturing to where Lord Destane stood, not yet angry but approaching. "What's wrong?" he asked, rubbing sleep from one eye.<p>

"Child, you should not sleep so long!"

"But the sun's only just risen, it's still early."

"The day begins at five _exactly,_ no later than that."

"But I was so tired…and Lady Ottilia told me I should rest today!"

That made Destane bark out a laugh. Harsh and cruel sounding. "What for? You didn't do anything yesterday!" And to that, Mozenrath had no response. So, he merely obeyed when told to follow Destane to one of the laboratories. "What connection have you to death? You're a Witternsbahl, you must have some."

"Well, two of my brothers died. Nalzenrath and Kal. And…and a while ago, I fell out of the tree in the gardens and I nearly died. I thought I saw a man, but it wasn't a man."

This made Destane look at him in a different light. "You have seen death. And it seems that when you saw him he spared you."

"But—" A sharp glare made him shut up.

* * *

><p>It was late that night that Mozenrath made his way back to his room, falling on the bed, outright exhausted. The moment he did, Xerxes appeared and nudged at his head. "Go away, Xerxes," grumbled Mozenrath.<p>

"Are you always going to be so tired?" asked the eel.

"I don't know." He was miserable. But now he had a question. "Xerxes, why haven't you talked?"

"They think me a dumb animal, maybe with a bit of speech. It's best to keep it that way. Then I can stay with you."

"When I saved you, I didn't know you'd want to be near me so much." The eel simply nudged against him and let the boy settle into sleep.

Far away from them, Ottilia was curled up in front of the fire, Sotkia brushing her hair as Destane paced, muttering to himself. Finally, she looked to her husband and said, "Destane." The man turned. "I should like a hand in this boy's education."

"You? You are busy with the country."

"And while that may be true, the boy is one of my people, he has never left this land, he told me in Pyrbaum that it was the first time he had left Beyr. He has natural magic that you do not have and cannot teach."

"So you wish to teach him that."

"Astrology, his innate magic…and politics."

"Politics?"

"He is our heir, husband." And she rose, Sotkia stepping back with a bowed head. "I expect your answer on the morrow. Good night." And she swept from the room, every inch the regal queen.

"Astrology, magic, _politics_," growled Destane. "She is overstepping her boundaries."

"My lord, if I may," said Sotkia. "She makes good points. I am the boy's aunt, and while he is half-human, any child of this land can become dangerous if not instructed in magic. He would have had very little instruction. You are a great sorcerer, but you are not an elf, nor a Crystalline Horn, nor a Selkie. It would be best if your wife did teach him."

"I will give my answer to my wife tomorrow. Not to you."

"Yes, m'lord."

"You are dismissed." Sotkia curtsied and left the room. The lord of the land turned to the fire, burning blue for more heat, and took a breath. Since when did Ottilia want any say? "You will have your way, Ottilia. I loathe it, but you will have your way."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **There you go, second chapter.

Drop a review of your way out.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Here we are again. And I've really got nothing to say. So...I do not own anything recognizable.

* * *

><p>Being Crown Prince was <em>exhausting<em> as Mozenrath would soon learn. He had to stand for portraits and learn magic from Destane and fetch things for him. He had to go with both Lord and Lady when they travelled to make appearances in different cities (he secretly liked this part. What child wouldn't, after only just leaving one providence?) and he had to help Destane with his experiments.

Those were terrifying. Since he had nearly died and "seen Death" then he was apparently perfect to help with this new experiment. It was _horrible,_ he had to try and figure how to pull just enough life to take what made them truly alive from a living thing until they were dead and barely conscious, just enough to follow orders.

In what few letters he had time to write to his family, he told his mother and father and sisters and brothers that it was fine, but he told Lud about how terrifying it was, how horrible. How he had to practice on mice and how that _rush of power that made him feel he could do anything_ made him want to hide away forever. His cousin offered what comfort he could but his own duties as Herceg of Beyr were starting to press down on him and he couldn't spare much time to write, same as him.

Xerxes had started talking, but in deliberately broken speech, making him an ordinary longfin eel of the Chiem in the eyes of everyone at court. Mozenrath still clutched at that red jewel, remembering when he had thought that Néné would have been here, would have been Crown Princess. That kept him strong, thinking about his poor sister, and how would she manage if she had been chosen. He had a strong mind, stronger than hers, he could stand it.

But the only good parts came when he had lessons with Lady Ottilia. She was nice and kind and good. The opposite of her husband, but he never said anything. They were married, of course they loved each other, and who was he to tell her that her husband was mean?

Especially when he had been forbidden visits to the chapel in the mornings. He had so wanted to keep that tradition, the hour each morning in prayer that Countess Ludovika insisted on, but that had been rejected by Destane, who believed that the only God worth worshiping was Death (it didn't help that Mozenrath learned that Destane was a variant on an ancient language's word for "death").

* * *

><p>"Mozenrath, child, come here," called Ottilia. Mozenrath looked up from the book he had been sent to read. It was in Arabic, but he didn't want to tell Destane (who had the boy either calling him "master" as if they were an ordinary master and apprentice or "sir") that he only knew little words and phrases that his siblings had taught him.<p>

When she waved him over, he rushed to her side, carrying the book. "Yes, ma'am?"

"It is time for our lesson, Mozenrath. Have you forgotten?"

"What? Oh no, I must have missed the bell for the hour! I…I was reading, ma'am and—"

"If my husband has put you to it, then I am not to judge. Come child, there is something I want to teach you." She took his hand (she had been doing that only when her husband wasn't around or when they had to stand for paintings, and Mozenrath didn't know why) and led him through the halls of the Citadel, passing the book to a servant and sending it to Mozenrath's room.

"What are we doing, ma'am?" asked Mozenrath.

"I want to teach you about the sand."

"Sand? What's so special about it?" And that made the elf stop.

"Do you not know?"

"Know what? Castle Possenhof is right by the Chiem. It's mostly limestone there, so we don't have as much black sand as around here."

She smiled and said, "Then I believe that you will enjoy this." And they continued, out and to the edge of the gardens, where the sand was coming in. "The Black Sand is someone alive. Our land is on a leak between dimensions, and through these leaks wild magic leaks. You know this from your lessons with my husband?" Mozenrath nodded. "So you know that over a long period of time, if exposed to wild magic things will change. That's the case with our sand." She placed her hand against it and slid her hand across it, pulling it up. Sand had formed a glove around her hand. "She knows me."

"She?"

"Child, we call all countries the feminine. Don't you know that?" but the question, that would be harsh and snappish from Destane, was gentle and kind from Ottilia, but somewhat detachedly.

"I…yes, ma'am, I did." She smiled.

"Place your hand against the sand, child. Left hand, that's where your connection will be strongest. Go on…" He did, and the sand began to creep over his hand, wrapping up his arm. He spooked and pulled back, the sand falling away as though he had only been holding it. "The sand is curious, child. You lived in Possenhof, you had very, very little contact with her. She wants to learn about you."

So, Mozenrath cautiously put his hand back, and let the sand rise up and down his arm until it merely shifted over his hand. Ottilia let out a hum of approval, and Mozenrath looked to her, smiling cautiously. She smiled back, the almost impersonal thing he had seen countless times, and helped him stand upright. "You have had first communion with the sand. And you will remember it forever. You are only ten years old, you will remember it."

They spent the rest of their lesson together at the edge of the gardens, Mozenrath's smile becoming more and more brave until the bell rang the hour and they were to go to the audience. Well, Ottilia was. Mozenrath was to go to be tutored in languages. That was the only other thing he liked about his new life.

* * *

><p>The months passed in this way until Mozenrath was eleven. That was when he was to go to a smaller city on the edge of their north-eastern border. That was when he saw his first glimpse of the golden sands beyond.<p>

Destane, who had been born and raised in them, merely sighed when Mozenrath tried to get a better look. The Crown Prince had heard of them, certainly, but they had seemed as far away as the stars, not reachable except for great masters of magic.

"Really, Mozenrath, _these_ sands are the oddity," said Destane. Mozenrath looked at him, unable to keep the word "Liar" out of his mind.

"It is the other way for me, Master," said Mozenrath quietly. "These sands are my home."

Really, he shouldn't even bother. Destane never listened, never heard. Not unless it bettered him in some way or Ottilia spoke. She spoke up so little against him, each word counted for much more.

And here were some words coming. But not any in Mozenrath's favor, not really. "I wanted to take Mozenrath to view the stars tonight. We have been spending much time with charts," she said.

"Very well," sighed Destane. Her hand found Mozenrath's and held it where it was hidden in her skirts, where no one could see it. She held hands with him in hidden ways now. Her smile was less impersonal, and she treated him like a friend.

They arrived at the Pel Castle, an old castle that was known as "the most romantic of all castles" and Mozenrath was sent to sleep, he would need the rest to view the stars that night. Xerxes had been allowed to come to Pel Castle, which was nice, and they had a long conversation about the strangeness of those sands, how the color couldn't be natural!

A similar conversation in regard to passion was happening on the other end of the castle. It was the first time in four years that Ottilia had raised her voice against her husband. "He is eleven years old!" she was shouting. "He has had no contact with his family in near three years outside of…of the occasional letter! You didn't even let him go to his sister Amali's wedding!"

"Do not argue with me!" Destane was shouting right back at her. He would not harm her, not yet at least. "You are not the one in charge of his education!"

"No, but I am still Lady of this land by _birth!_"

"He will do as I ask and no other way around it!" Her eyes narrowed at him and she hissed,

"And when there is no other way around it for _you_…I hope you remember this day." And then she started away. Destane, furious, grabbed her wrist, spinning her to face him.

"Are you insinuating something?" he growled. His wife was angry and she held the true loyalty of their people. He was not going to take her threats lightly.

"Let me go!" she snarled. He grabbed her forearms, limiting her arms' movement, but she did not stop struggling.

"Tell me right now. Are you planning my death?"

"Why would I do that? It's not as though you have been anything but fatherly to the boy and an attentive husband to me!" and she wrenched free, leaving.

And now Destane was in a fury. Turning, he punched the wall. Sotkia went forward the second he hissed, passing her finger over each cut, causing them to fade. "When you anger your wife like that, she will someday pull all her weight," warned the Witternsbahl.

"I am _aware_, Sotkia. Now leave me." The woman curtsied and left.

* * *

><p>The moon was a waning gibbous when Mozenrath was woken by a servant. He sat up, and was helped into clothes that would keep him warm in the night. Yes, the stars! He had nearly forgotten.<p>

Xerxes didn't stir from where he was sleeping in the bowl of water provided, and Mozenrath hurried out of his room, being led to where Lady Ottilia was waiting in the courtyard. She was dressed the same, in a black dress lined with Wind Jackal fur, same as Mozenrath's cloak.

"You are lucky, child," she said, kneeling. "Do you see what is coming?" He looked up and said,

"Clouds. Is it going to rain?"

"No, those are not rain clouds. You will be able to tell the difference soon enough. Now take my hand, you haven't learned this yet." He did as he was told, and watched as she took a deep breath, whispering a Word of Power. If she had to use verbal magic, this must be difficult!

A feeling of weightlessness enfolded him, and he looked down, realizing that they were flying. A gasp left him. His brother Leeno could fly but hadn't wanted to take him, it was too hard to keep two people "afloat."

"Keep close, child," said Ottilia once they were above the cloud line. "You have enough magic to be on your own, but not for long." Mozenrath cautiously let go, and found that he was floating on his own. He swore he would learn how to fly by himself someday. "Do you recognize that star?" He looked to where she was pointing and said,

"…Yes. That is the Star of Ishtar. Its cycle is…five hundred and eighty seven days?"

"According to Mesopotamian texts, indeed. However, it is in actuality five hundred eighty four days, when you try not match it to the phases of the moon."

"The inaccuracy was discovered by your astrologists, yes?"

"Not mine, my father's. Lord Fra Habens." Mozenrath nodded. "And what is that constellation?"

"That is Al-Asad. The Great Lion."

"And where does it reside in the mansions of the moon?"

"It's in the seventh to fourteenth mansions. Its nose is in the seventh, and its hind legs are in the fourteenth."

"Very good." And they continued in that way, until Lady Ottilia turned and smiled. "Mozenrath, look at the clouds." He did, and let out a small gasp of wonder. In the clouds were _dolphins,_ leaping out and in of the vapors.

"What are _they?_" asked Mozenrath. "I've never heard of them before!"

"They're still relatively a mystery. We call them Cloud Dolphins for now. Very creative, aren't we?" But Mozenrath didn't care. The clouds were so close now, he could hear the squeaking of the dolphins. It reminded him of home, of the Chiem, and though he was delighted, he grew sad. He missed his family, and there he gave orders and got what he wanted, here he had to follow orders and was denied things he liked. He couldn't go riding, he couldn't play any games…and seeing the dolphins only made it worse.

Truly, if he hadn't been overwhelmed and started crying, he could have appreciated the Cloud Dolphins. But instead, while hanging by the power of Lady Ottilia's magic in the night sky, the Crown Prince (former Duke) Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl curled into a ball and wept. He would look back on it in disgust at himself, weeping like a child half his age. At that moment, though, his three years of separation from his family hit him full force.

"Come now, calm down," said Ottilia softly, taking his hand and pulling him closer. "It's alright child. Whatever is the matter, it's alright." But she knew. She could tell that the sounds of these dolphins had driven him to tears. "Perhaps we should look at the stars another night. Come, child, take a deep breath."

It took a bit, but Mozenrath calmed himself. He took a breath and looked up at the queen. She offered a smile, seemingly worried he would start weeping again. "I'm okay," he said. She gave him a smile and drew him into an embrace, making him gasp.

"You're in a very bad place. You're being forced to grow too quickly, just like me," she said softly. "I'm closer to your age than Destane. Biologically. Did you know that?"

"My…my mother told me…"

"You need more connection to your mother…" she sighed, and slid behind the mask of the perfect queen. "We will continue looking at the stars another time. We both need sleep." And she took his hand, and gently descended into the gardens. He was sent back to bed, to be rested for the upcoming days.

* * *

><p>It was the day after next that Mozenrath finally saw his first human. The man was a slave, his face solemn and his eyes hard. Mozenrath, coming from a family that had supported the "Skalverfrei" movement to abolish slavery, had never seen a slave. So he approached curiously before Lady Ottilia or Lord Destane could keep him in check.<p>

The slave saw him and his eyes widened in seeming horror. He didn't take his eyes off of Mozenrath as he breathed something in Arabic, too complex for Mozenrath's early level of comprehension. It was not his fault that his language tutor was teaching him ancient languages and Greek and the Thraco-Illyrian tongue of the Cimmarians.

"Are you a human?" he asked softly, not wanting to call attention to himself. "I would be half like you if you are. Are you?"

"Mozenrath, come away," called Destane, his voice like iron. The Crown Prince did as he was told, but still curious. "Why were you talking to the slave?"

"Is he a human, sir?"

"Yes."

"I was curious. I'm half human." And the king turned to Sotkia.

"Sotkia? How did this escape my notice?"

"What, m'lord?" asked his assistant, looking up from her book in which she was recording the purchase of this slave.

"That your nephew is half-human?"

"I am not certain sir. Perhaps your duties to the country encompassed your mind. With tax season coming—"

"Never mind. Mozenrath, you and I will have much to do together." Mozenrath looked down. His stomach was clenching in that way he associated with the stealing of life-force. "Sotkia, send our slave to his lodgings. Ottilia, it is your lesson with Mozenrath." And then he was gone, as noble as ever.

"Come Mozenrath," said Ottilia gently. "We'll talk about slavery, then."

"Lady Ottilia, why is there slavery? Papa told me that slavery is an offense to anything alive."

"Child, the Witternsbahl family played a large part in the _Sklaverfrei_ movement and I'm happy that you did. But there is a reason that was a movement. Not everyone believes what your father does. Look at Destane. Now come, we have much to do and not much time to do it in."

And indeed, the hour lesson went too fast, and he was called to help Destane. Meeting him in one of the laboratories (why did he want at least two in every castle?) he saw that the slave was there. Vaguely, he felt as though he should learn the man's name, but he didn't dare.

"Hello child. Today we are going to make a very large step forward. Do you recall what we have been experimenting on mice?"

"It is…rather difficult to forget what one did merely a few days earlier, master," said Mozenrath.

"Indeed. Now we have purchased this slave for this same reason. Seeing as you are half human, you have a connection to this man as well as to natural magic I cannot." The king placed his hand heavily on the boy's shoulder. "So. Turn this man like you did the mice. I am expecting results before the sun goes down."

Mozenrath succeeded. The slave, whoever he was, no longer had a name nor did he need one. He looked like a rotting corpse entirely. His lips had been sewn shut to keep the jaw attached. Destane wanted to do tests on what it (no longer he) could withstand before it crumbled. Or would it crumble at all?

The Crown Prince had been let sleep; he had pled exhaustion from such a task. Xerxes wasn't even there, so Mozenrath simply curled on his bed and wept aloud.

"I am so sorry," he gasped, trying to soften his cries. That _rush of power…_it had been so intense he wanted to do anything, he wanted to destroy something, or raise his brothers from the graves they slept in. "I am so, _so sorry…_"

But he promised to himself that he would not be like this again. Lady Ottilia had been married to the man for far longer, and his aunt had been the personal assistant to the king for long as well. He would harden his heart and never again be a weeping tiny child, he would be brave.

Mozerath drifted into an uneasy slumber, remembering the haunting sounds of the slave whispering in horror at the sight of him. Was he so scary? He wasn't even thirteen, what could possibly be so frightening?

He had nightmares. Nightmares of rotting corpses whispering in Arabic, of the gruesome task of sewing shut the lips, the blood sliding sluggishly by gravity only out of the lips and onto his fingers. Sluggish blood drowning him, his beloved brothers Wim and Nalzenrath in that same way trying to tell him things that the horrible stitches did not allow.

When he woke, tears in his eyes and scared, he remembered the northern legend of the Trickster who was punished with his lips sewn shut. Nell used to tell him and Agulstine those stories. He had loved them, but now they frightened him. He was the magician, he was the one who was using words. Was he the trickster? Was he going to be punished the same way?

He truly wished that Nell was there with him so he could hide himself in her skirts.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath stopped eating after the incident with the slave. His growing problem with meat reached its peak, he grew physically ill when he ingested any meat at all. Destane sighed but ordered the cooks to make a meal that the Crown Prince could eat. There was much struggle to find a nutritious substitute, but they found it from the Chinese, fermented bean curd.<p>

It had been a struggle to get used to it after the meals thus far in his life, but Mozenrath got used to it, using eggs and milk to get animal protein. Ottilia had been fearful that he would go insane like the rest of his family after such a stress on his mind, but after a prolonged time with no such signs, she relaxed but only slightly.

His lack of eating made him faint at times, but he managed it well. He had yet to cause Destane any reason to hate him, he hadn't fainted during any lesson, but he had collapsed once or twice during his lessons with Ottilia or Manners Teacher or his language tutor.

He had finally learned what the slave had been saying. He had remembered the sounds, so now when he was going through the book on Arabic, he learned what the slave had said. And he threw the book across the room in horror.

"_They've stolen a child. That monster woman with the horns like diamonds…she stole a child. The boy probably doesn't even know."_

His own kind, half of his own kind thought him a monster for what species his mother was. He was unfortunate here with his horns being as small as they were (he put his hands over them as he curled up in horror) but _there _with his other kind, he was a monster for having them at all.

"Highness, what is the matter?" asked his language teacher. The woman, a centaur mare, was growing very frightened. The Crown Prince had curled up and was shaking, and now from the corners she could hear whisperings and saw shadows moving. "Highness, stop it. You're doing evil magic."

But the boy couldn't hear her, he was too frightened of the realization that he would never be accepted by humans for his blood, that half of who he was would be too frightened of his appearance.

"Highness…I am going to get someone who will stop this if you don't." However, she knew that asking him would never work. So, she left, hurrying to find anyone to help.

It was Destane who she found and brought. The shadows were pulling away from the wall, headless images, forms that changed every two seconds…he banished them simply by slapping Mozenrath across the face. The boy fell out of the chair with a gasp, the shadows dissipating into memories.

"What were you doing, boy?" asked Destane, his voice hard and promising of punishment.

"I…I…" tried Mozenrath, his hand covering where he had been slapped.

"Answer me, boy."

"The…the first slave" for there had been more and there were now six of those undead "he…he said something. It was too complex for me then but…in the book…I just learned. He called me a monster."

Destane sighed and a pitying look came onto his face. "That would be because you _are_, Mozenrath. A half-breed, if you don't like the word 'monster.' To humans like myself, you are unnatural. What human would lie with one of the creatures of this land? And to this land, you are half human. Who would ever lie with a human?" He offered a cold smile. "It's just best if you accept that." And then he left.

The worst part was that the day was not half over. Mozenrath was expected to continue on as though nothing happened. Thankfully, his language tutor let him go, and with the time left, he fled to the chapel and prayed to Amm for strength, to help him be as hard as he needed to be to survive.

Standing, he took his leave, returning to his room. There, he took the necklace he had been given during one of the _hundreds_ of audiences and put it on. Gold with three svastikas on it.

He felt the need for this protection, especially around Destane.

* * *

><p>"Why are we coming out here?" asked Ottilia, her handmaiden holding a parasol over her head. They were approaching the border, where the black and golden sands mixed. Mozenrath was very excited for it, but he was kept under a parasol as well.<p>

"There is something I want to test," said Destane. He denied shelter as he was human.

"I see." And then they reached the border. Both Crown Prince and Lady of the Black Sands tried to hold back, but Destane gave them a look that told them in no uncertain terms that they were to leave their homeland and step onto the foreign sands. So, they did.

When they did, however, Destane's eyes flicked directly to Mozenrath's neck. Strange, because his Dwarf Horns were actually catching the sun (it seemed much stronger out here). "Mozenrath, your neck." The child put his hand to it, but it didn't feel any different. Ottilia looked at it and said,

"You have some Great Oasis blood in you. Child, your neck is glowing red. Like a hummingbird." It really was quite prominent against the skin that was very nearly pure white and if it had come to his attention the week before, his panic attack would have been even worse. As it was, he simply touched it.

"It doesn't feel any different," said Mozenrath, confused.

"My experiment can wait," decided Destane. "Come child, I want to ask you a few questions about your family." And he led Mozenrath away, the servant with his parasol sent away.

"Sotkia?" asked Ottilia, turning to the other Witternsbahl.

"Yes?" she asked, her horns nearly blinding her queen.

"Were you aware of this?"

"No, ma'am, I was not aware that my nephew had that. I suppose it is a recessive gene in our family expressed by him being half human."

"I am trying to protect him from my husband and I expect you to do the same."

"I swore to County Machim the day he was sworn into his new role that I would."

"Very good. I am not expecting much can be done, but I am hoping."

It was that night that Mozenrath held Xerxes close, and when the eel asked what was wrong he could only say, "I'm the mouse now. It's me he's studying now."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The astrology is accurate Pre-Islamic astrology. Al-Asnam is the Great Lion, and he is huge. One leg is Gemini, for instance. The Star of Ishtar is Venus and was named that and given a cycle of five hundred eighty seven days by the Mesopotamians, who symbolized it in an eight pointed star.

Now, we really have to have a talk, guys. I used the swastika. In it's old sense. It is used in the Hindu belief and translates literally into "that which is associated with well being." In the Jain symbol, it is used to symbolize pacifism and kindness to all living things and also the four ways you can be reborn, a heavenly being, a human, an animal, or a demon of some sort. The swastika is made in front of temples and an offering is placed on it.

An Iranian necklace was found with three swastikas on it. It is a good thing in this context. It is an ancient symbol of prosperity and protection. Hitler made it something cruel, he made it evil. So do not, _do not _go all self-righteous on me.

I will likely be using things like this that apply to the story, and I can almost promise you that this will be back.

Now with that, I shal tell you that reviews are lovely things.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Here we are again. And I have nothing to say.

Disclaimer: I own only those who you do not recognize.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath was disturbingly successful at his oath to himself to harden his heart. By the time he was eleven and a half he was almost too hardened. A smile became rare and when it was there, it was forced, as fake as Ottilia's. Xerxes mourned the loss of his friend but got to know this boy who had taken his place, the "mouse" that Destane was now experimenting on.<p>

With very little animal protein and more time riding (he had managed to persuade Destane to allow it by being "brave" under the knife) he began to grow thinner and thinner. It worried Ottilia, to the point where she convinced the son of a wealthy merchant in the south to come. His name was Rell Dissel, a faun with a basic education and normal intelligence. He was to be a rock for the Crown Prince who now spoke four languages and was swiftly being taught two more (three, if you counted how he was learning how to duplicate the clicking and hisses that Xerxes made when around other eels), the Crown Prince who knew too much and learned far too fast.

She introduced her heir to the other boy before breakfast one day. "Mozenrath, this is Rell. He will help you with your tasks and keep you company," she said.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, highness," said Rell, bowing low.

Mozenrath only furrowed his brow and turned to Ottilia. "But I have Xerxes. I've had Xerxes since I was eight. Why do I need him?"

"Mozenrath!" snapped Otttilia. "This boy has agreed to leave his family to be your companion! Besides, Xerxes is your familiar and cannot help you with some aspects. And he doesn't have hands. Don't you want someone to go riding with?" Mozenrath gave a small shrug. "Well then. He will be with you from now on." And she pushed Rell forward, effectively ushering both into the breakfast room.

* * *

><p>Crown Prince Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl, former Duke of the Salt Lands of Beyr and Rell Dissel were a strange duo. Rell, being a faun, had the inability to stay still for very long and was always hungry. Mozenrath grew snappish when someone tried to get him to eat when he decided not to (which resulted in the occasional collapse, but he managed to be upright for far too long for it to be normal).<p>

In short, Mozenrath _hated_ Rell. He hated how the boy was given a room near his own, he hated how he _could hear him snoring_ during the night. He hated how the boy kept trying to ride with him or talk about how he had "been to Beyr once. Isn't that where you come from? Of course I was there when I was really little so I don't remember that much." (Mozenrath was under the impression that Rell was doing his best to mock him for never leaving Possenhof until he was six and not Beyr until he was nine while everyone else in the land was so well traveled.)

"Where are you going?" asked Rell, following Mozenrath as the other boy hurried through the halls, Xerxes on his shoulder.

"Riding," was his short, terse answer.

"I don't think you should. You haven't eaten all day, and you just had a little bit of that bean curd stuff yesterday. _And_ you just came from working with Lord Destane!" The faun was finding it hard to keep up with his stride (that growth spurt had sent the prince nearly a head taller than him) but he did his best. "I think you should lie down and eat something. You can go riding later, right?"

_Oh that was it. That was the last shred of patience gone._

So, Mozenrath spun and pressed the boy against the wall, glaring with all the fire he could muster, his left hand _actually_ on fire due to his magic. "You do not tell me what to do. You do not get to offer your opinion. You are the son of a merchant. I am the son of a _Count._ You can't trace your family history. People _study mine in school._ If I want to ride, then I will ride. If I want to do it _without you_, then I will."

"You're the son of a human, Mozenrath," said Rell, disturbingly calm in the face of that sea-green fire not too far away from his face. "Your mother committed adultery, something that God Amm has taught us not to do. Count Machim Witternsbahl was a generous man who did not have you drowned in the Chiem you love so much." The fire went out. No one here knew he loved the Chiem. "You need to get better at protecting your mind, highness. If I can feel that loyalty to your family, that love for riding and sailing, then imagine how much the Lord Destane can see. I respect you, you will lead my country and you have powerful magic. But I don't fear you, Mimzy."

And it was at the sound of that name he had not heard in far, _far_ too long that Mozenrath let the other go, stepping back. Xerxes, who had lifted off his shoulder, settled again, clicking out,_ "Are you alright? Should I fetch someone?"_

Mozenrath, his eyes closed and his body suddenly very tired, responded in the same clicks. _"No, I just want to go home. That's all."_ And then he turned back to Rell, who was still staring evenly at him. "I used to hate you. Plan your death at night," he said. "But I think I'm starting to like you."

"Always a pleasure, highness. I will make you a deal. You eat something and I will teach you how to shield your mind. There is a book I have found that will show you the particulars."

Mozenrath looked at him evenly, and finally said, "Very well."

* * *

><p>So, the two boys found themselves in the library. Rell had yet to be in any castle outside of the Citadel Ortenburg, but Mozenrath knew that this one was small in comparison, but rich in magical texts. It wouldn't be surprising to find a book on protecting one's mind here. And indeed, the faun picked up a small book, handing it over to the prince.<p>

"It really will only help if you know the basics. Am I correct in assuming you don't?" asked Rell.

Mozenrath, who was already flipping through the book, simply said, "Father always said that I would never need it. Youngest son is hardly a target in political maneuvering."

"That's obviously fell through."

"Rell, I may be beginning to tolerate you, but that does not mean that I will let you insult my father."

"Adopted father."

"The point still stands. I honestly do not know who my birth father is or even if he is alive. It really does not matter to me." Rell shrugged, and took the book back, setting it on one of the low tables.

"Okay, so if you want to shield your mind, you have to broadcast hostility while maintaining a barrier. The first will naturally repel other minds, but the second will keep the determined out."

And so it began. Mozenrath, from flipping through the book, refused to use the "stone wall and arrows" trick. Instead, he broadcasted a sense of gentle discouragement and the gentle waves of Possenhof bay. The discouragement, the book said, would make others decide it really wasn't worth it and the water would make them want to turn back to their own minds. His barrier was no stone wall, but an eel's scales. Smooth and slippery—someone would slide right off of his mind that way.

And that gave Rell no end of frustration. Which was amusing. "You're supposed to start with a stone wall and hostility! _Then_ you can move onto other methods!" Rell said, stopping his hoof with a loud clack.

"But if I can do these _now_ then I won't need the basics. Besides, your method is so barbaric."

"It's been proven and used for generations!"

"As has killing unwanted children." Rell spluttered for an answer, but finally threw up his hands and said,

"Fine! Be that way Prince I'm-going-to-learn-how-eels-talk-to-each-other-so-I-can-insult-people-behind-their-backs!" Mozenrath smiled to himself, why insult someone behind their backs when he could do it to their face in a way they would understand a day too late?

There was the faint sound of the bell, and both boys looked up. That signaled the hour. Mozenrath had to be in the audience hall with Ottilia and Destane right then. Rell grabbed Mozenrath's hand, and suddenly they were behind the back door.

"How did you-?" started Mozenrath.

"Shut up. Inborn magic," said Rell, smoothing the Prince's clothes. "Now you get in there before your master takes both our heads."

"Teach me."

"_Later._" And then the faun practically shoved the prince into the room.

* * *

><p>The audience was nothing special. Just more courtiers asking for this and that and richer common folk begging indulgence in something or another and military personnel putting forward ways to expand their borders (that was all they ever cared about). Really, all it did was strengthen Mozenrath's resolve to simply refuse to have anything to do with the military when he came to power.<p>

_If you survive that long,_ a small voice in the back of his head whispered. He told it to shut up.

Of course he would survive. Why wouldn't he? Just because he was sickly because of human blood, just because he didn't want to eat (how could he? He was stealing almost all humanity from half of his species!), just because he was completely and disgustingly willing to be experimented on just so he could go riding with the wind just _one more time_ he was not going to die. He would survive. He would take the throne like he was being trained to.

It took conscious effort not to touch the svastikas on the necklace he wore.

"Mozenrath, would you go tell the porter that we are only accepting audiences from _acceptable_ people?" asked Destane. The boy looked at them both. Destane hard eyed and displeased, Ottilia in that regal and almost tearful way she sat when he got like that.

"Yes, sir," he said, standing and going to do just that. He knew that behind him the rulers of the land were having a silent argument. They always did, during the audiences. It was as normal as his parents smiling at each other and laughing.

* * *

><p>Rell and Mozenrath became good friends, especially when Xerxes migrated back for mating season. With the eel gone, the newly stony Crown Prince turned to Rell as his confidante. Rell kept most things secret, but once in a while, he would have to go tell Lady Ottilia what Mozenrath had told him.<p>

"Hello Rell," she greeted from where was seated in her window seat, soaking up the winter sun and reading. It was in a language he didn't speak. "Why did you want to see me?"

"It's about Mozenrath," he said. He didn't want to have to tell her this, but he would.

"What about him? Is that horrible man doing something to him?" ("Horrible man" was how Ottilia spoke of her husband when he wasn't around. That was one of the ways she rebelled against him.)

"It's not that. It's…" he looked at her and whispered, "he doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep, he's just learning more and more complex spells."

"Yes, he's already learned how to block his mind…how complex are the spells?"

"The workmen didn't fix the statue on top of the Mosque of God Amm. His magic did." Ottilia dropped the book.

"That Mosque is eight floors high! Not to mention the minaret! Are you certain?"

"I was next to him. I told him not to, but he did. Wanted to see if he could."

"I went up to see it myself…I thought that the workmen had hired a magic artisan to fix it so seamlessly…was he on the ground?"

"Started out. Then he flew up to check."

Ottilia asked a few more questions, growing more and more astounded. Her heir could speak the language of _eels_ and had such intense magical power. But he wore a necklace with svastikas for protection. Such a strange boy of contradictions.

"Has he spoken of his family?" she finally asked.

"A little. When he comes to after the experiments, he mutters about his sister, how lucky she is that she's back home. Hélené, I think her name is."

"Duchess Hélené, yes. She was to become heir, but I sensed Mozenrath more able." She looked away. "Apparently I was wrong. No child of the Witternsbahl family belongs at this court, it seems." There was a moment of silence as she collected her book. "Thank you for telling me, Rell. I will write to his family on the matter." He bowed, slipping out of the sunroom, leaving her to begin her letter.

* * *

><p>Over these past years, life in Beyr continued. But saddened. Possenhof seemed still dark and saddened without little Mimzy running through the halls with a laugh. Count Machim, continuing to educate his son Leeno on maintaining the salt trade coming out of the Salt Lands (the only thing that let them keep their castle and not become bankrupt nobles living off the "generosity" of their Lord King Destane), would sometimes turn to the sight of the Chiem and sigh.<p>

His sisters, the eldest now being married off, would go together to the stables to go riding, but would spend a while petting the nose of their dear Mimzy's mare (he had named her "Horse" even, dear boy). His brothers sighed at their strange devotion to their littlest brother, but they had yet to remove the last offering of shells at the graves of Wim and Nalzenrath or stop telling stories about how Mimzy and Xerxes had slipped the bodies of fish washed ashore into their beds (now it was funny, sitting and watching the male eels head back to the Great Oasis. Then it had been anything but).

The letters that came from Ortenburg and the other castles were very few and very brief. Herceg Lud had sent a letter to the Count Machim asking if Mimzy had written to him about these experiments, about how now he was going under the knife ("but it's okay, because I got a horse to go riding on for being willing"). Countess Ludovika read her nephew's letter and holed herself up in Mimzy's old room, weeping for hours.

The Queen's letter arrived days after the Herceg's, detailing exactly what Rell had told her, sparing no detail. At it was from that that drove Hélené, in tears, to go to her father asking what he would do if she was in this situation. As she asked the question through her stuffed nose and pathetic gasps, Count Machim held her close and said, "The same thing I am going to do for your brother. I am going to save him. I am going to save him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Drop a review on the way out!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Here's the next installment! Woop!

Yes, if you notice, you will see heavy inspiration from "Marie Antoinette", the Sofia Coppola film. I do not regret using it, however, so everyone just calm down. All...none of you. Yeah.

And no, I don't own Disney nor do I own the rights to the film "Marie Antoinette" but the quote about the diamonds actually happened and that's public domain at this point.

* * *

><p>Count Machim Witternsbahl and Countess (formerly Hercegnő) Ludovika Witternsbahl in Beyr were honestly not surprised at the reaction from their family. They had sent copies of the queen's letter, and had received full support. Herceg Lud had already told his parents, and so Király Machimil and Királynő Mali of Beyr had begun to quietly raise an army.<p>

Leeno, now engaged to a Duchess in Sek (she was a beautiful young faun called Enriet), was mostly in charge of the Salt Trade now, his father working to save his youngest son. Hélené helped out any way she could, but now her mother was trying to find someone to marry her.

Beyr, if one knew how to look, was alive and riled with passion. But if you didn't, it was just a sleepy province, same as always.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath was twelve, his magic changing. Where it used to be visibly sea-green, it was turning bluer and bluer, its concentration and purity becoming better and better from the many experiments that Lord Destane was conducting on him. He had hit a growth spurt, and his lack of eating just made Ottilia worry more and more.<p>

She did not worry about the results of the experiments, Mozenrath had begged Rell to not tell, and Xerxes was so bonded to him that the eel needn't ask. He was always unconscious, and when he came too, he was delirious. Rell hated it.

"The shadows, look, they're longer," the Crown Prince muttered, one pupil contracted and one pupil dilated (Rell knew enough by now to know that meant his friend was horribly injured in the brain). "It's night."

"No, Mozenrath, it's afternoon," he said, cursing his cloven feet as he tried to help him up. They weren't good for support.

"But it can't be. It was…it was evening when the day started."

"Come on, Mozenrath, let's get you to a doctor. You're very hurt."

"Rell…Rell!"

"What is it?" they were shuffling to the doctor now, Rell actually very worried.

"They're here! Wim and Nalzenrath. My brothers. But they're dead. They are, aren't they? I…I left them shells. Why are they here?"

"I don't know. Now come on, your head must hurt, we'll get you something."

"I want to talk to my brothers, Rell. I want…I want…"

What was really horrible, Rell reflected as he dragged the other boy along and listened to him mutter things that made no sense, was that there was no regret from his friend. No hint of remorse from these experiments. No, he would go to the doctor, be healed, and then head to the stables, going riding. He didn't even stop to wonder if that was wise. Just that if he didn't take advantage of it, the privilege would be ripped from him.

"Rell, why do they leave me alone?" muttered the Crown Prince, sparks of magic coming off of his skin now. That had been a nasty experiment and Rell, just looking at him, was grateful he didn't know exactly what had even happened.

"Who leaves you alone?"

"Mama, Papa, my family…"

"They're in Beyr, highness. Remember?"

"Then…then where are we?"

"We're in Castle Possel. We've been here for a month."

"Oh…Rell, everything _hurts._"

"I'm taking you to the doctor now. Come on, Mozenrath, work with me."

* * *

><p>The doctor proclaimed that Mozenrath was not to help in any experiments for the next four months if he was expected to live past age twenty. Most courtiers wondered if he would survive that long even without the pardon from the experiments.<p>

Mozenrath did not hear this, though, did not know that he had _actually been dying_ and actually seemed a bit lost as to what to do now that he was ordered by everyone to not help. Rell took to taking him to his favorite places—the aviaries, his hidden nooks in the libraries where no one could see them, and his favorite, the old, old room at the top of the main room in the Citadel.

It was only reachable by the roof, Rell had only found it when one of the servants roped him into helping shoo the birds that were building nests up there. The room was tiny, but it was large enough for two boys to sit together with books and a plate of dates and bread. It was large enough to teach.

"Look, you've got really strong magic," Rell said once, "but that doesn't mean that you can't be hurt by normal weapons."

"Are you saying someone will try and kill me? I survived being a bastard child, Rell," said Mozenrath, offering Xerxes, who was waking from his nap, a date.

"Just think about it. You can drown still. Ever think of that on the Chiem?"

"No. My Escorts were always there to catch me if I leaned too far over." Rell sighed. This was what happened when the Crown Prince was also the youngest child of a County. Spoiled, privileged, and completely unaware of it.

"You are hopeless." Mozenrath merely shrugged. (In the back of his mind, he realized that just two years earlier, he would have laughed aloud at that. How much he had changed.)

What Rell noticed was that while his favorite place was that old room, Mozenrath _adored_ those nooks in the library. When Rell was roped into helping the servants (that's what happens when you make friends with them, they want your help) he would find Mozenrath there, engrossed in a text in a language so old that he was learning by trying to decode from those books for lack of it spoken anywhere anymore.

"Mozenrath, what are you reading?" he asked once.

"Look at this," Mozenrath had said, his eyes nearly gleaming. "It's the original entry on the Thirdaks. Before it got translated!"

"Don't you mean one of the entries on Thirdaks?"

"No. There's only one. _This _one. Thirdaks eat magic, so there has only been one scientist who studied them."

"Who? Was he human?" Rell found himself actually intrigued by this.

"No. He was an elf, but there was something in his biology that rendered him incapable of absorbing magic. He was safe, but no one else has ever studied them."

"Wait a minute, if they eat magic, how could an elf even be in the same place?"

Rell regretted asking that question. He had let Mozenrath go on a rant about them for the next fifteen minutes.

* * *

><p>Ottilia had lost her virginity a long time ago. She had come to terms with it, able to push on if only for her people and now for Mozenrath and Rell. Of course the only reason she <em>could<em> come to terms with it was that her husband had never touched her in that way since their wedding night. And she was more than happy about that.

But that didn't mean that she felt…she wasn't sure what, actually, about the mistresses that Destane kept. The Lady Regeant of Auber-Upo was his current mistress, a beautiful elf whose husband had been executed the previous year for anarchistic intent (oddly, the Lord of Auber-Upo actually _did _have anarchistic intent, it wasn't some lie created to off him). Her name was Daccor, famed for her beautiful singing voice and her talent in gymnastics.

Ottilia was cordial to her. Whenever Daccor began to sing, Ottilia would listen politely despite her pride at her alto voice (no one wanted to hear an alto though. It was always about the sopranos). When they met in the halls, they would smile politely at the other but no words had been spoken.

Destane was not happy about this.

His wife was publicly snubbing his mistress (why was that even a position at court, anyway?) and that reflected badly on everyone. So, he met with his wife once, walking in the gardens with her. "Daccor wishes to gift you with diamonds," he said.

"I have enough diamonds, husband," she said (why was she angry that he called her Daccor? He would be far more familiar with her than with Ottilia).

"You cannot continue to _snub_ her like this."

"Why not? Everyone knows I am above her in rank."

"Ottilia." She let out a breath, letting him go on. "Snubbing her is publically criticizing my behavior, which we long agreed we would not do. For the sake of our land. The more you continue this, the more unstable we appear to the rest of the world. Just say a few words to her. She cannot speak first, you know that."

"A few words. Nothing more." And that was the end of their discussion on the matter. It didn't matter when she would, just that she would.

Not that she was happy about it.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath didn't understand Ottilia's dislike of Lady Reagent Daccor. Daccor taught him gymnastics now (Rell near pulled out his hair when he heard) and reminded him of his sister Mathilde sometimes. She was very nice, at least to his face, and she had remain on her best behavior for some time yet, seeing as her husband had been executed and her new position wasn't exactly stable.<p>

But, Mozenrath did like Ottilia very much, and would take her side on most things. So he tried to explain without explaining to Daccor, but he still needed practice on that, and mostly stumbled over his words, going instead to the bars and pulling himself up to practice instead of talk.

"Your highness, really, just answer," Daccor once said. "Why will the queen not speak to me?"

"I don't actually know," Mozenrath gasped out, slowly moving on the bars. "She doesn't say that much to me, surprisingly." Daccor sighed and simply corrected his form (she had no idea that he would want mirrors installed around the whole room so he could always correct his form).

It was fifteen minutes later that Mozenrath was summoned to his lessons in etiquette, something he hated, but he at least escaped questions there. And when he left, there was Rell, who had long since been working up the courage to talk to the woman.

"My lady," he greeted with a bow. She nodded to him in response.

"Hello, Rell. What business have you here?"

"Not so much business as a request."

"Oh?"

"Stop teaching Mozenrath gymnastics."

"Rell, I _barely_ have stability here. The king chose me when my husband has not been dead a year, the queen snubs me, can I honestly turn down a request from the crown prince?"

"He is _dying_, and you're willingly teaching him?"

Daccor stared at him. He was an innocent boy, the son of a common man, no one could possibly use him against her. So, she sighed and said, "The fairies have turned their backs on me. _Me,_ the Lady Reagent of Auber-Upo, where the fairies live. What can I do, Rell?"

He had no answer for her. How shameful. Simple looking at her a moment, he nodded. "I suppose…"

And they were at an impasse. And neither was happy about it.

* * *

><p>Ottilia and Mozenrath walked together often, especially as Destane spent more and more time with Daccor. Mozenrath, now worrying the doctor on how his bone mass was holding up, would act the perfect gentleman, always following protocol to a tee. He never spoke to her unless she spoke first, and never stepped out of rank for a second.<p>

And so he was as such when he walked with her through the court as they went to inspect the University of Possel. He kept perfectly still when she pulled to a stop in front of Destane and Daccor, and he showed no emotion when she turned to Daccor and said, "There are a lot of people at court today."

Daccor, for her part, showed the same amount of emotion as Mozenrath and Ottilia when she replied, "Indeed, majesty."

However, when Ottilia nodded to her and continued on with Mozenrath, the masks cracked. Daccor smiled at the king, pleased, and Ottilia leaned in to her heir and said softly, "Those are the last words I will ever say to her." Mozenrath even smiled, something that had not happened in too long a time.

* * *

><p>The common people of the Land of the Black Sands were not ignorant. Not at all. They spoke of politics in the coffeehouses of the large cities, the peasants around the fire in the evening. One particular coffeehouse, in the area of the Royal University of Magical Arts, was well known for its debates.<p>

Inside, young males and females from dozens of species and races joined together to debate. They spoke viciously on the continued isolation of their country, about the strict laws on leaving the country (so strict that only the nobility could), they criticized the king taking a mistress, and when tax season came around, no one was safe.

However, the regulars always held high Sotkia Witternsbahl. She was the heavenly light, the saving grace in court, as her nephew had yet to be formally introduced to society. Yes, he was heir, but he would come into society in three years, once he was fifteen (not that the tradition sat well with these regulars who wanted to talk about his thoughts). Until that time, very little was known about his political views, so they kept quiet on him.

"Have you heard?" one young man was saying, wrapping the coils of his snake body around him so no one tripped. "Prince Mozenrath has been ordered to not partake in any of our Lord King's experiments for the next few months."

"What?" asked another man, looking up from where he was pouring another cup of coffee. His shriek at the hot liquid hitting his hand nearly drowned out the youngest woman saying,

"I heard about that! He was dying, apparently."

"Dying?" asked the woman she was with. "What did our Lord King do to him?"

"I don't know. I don't think anyone knows. Just one day, they stopped. On the plus side those creepy soldiers have stopped being made."

There was a collective shudder at the thought of them. Destane apparently thought it would be _hilarious_ to name them the Arabic word for slave, so now most slave traders had abandoned their trade due to flashbacks to their first encounter with the Mamluks.

"So, what? That's it?"

"Not only that, but apparently Lady Reagent Daccor has been accepted by Lady Queen Ottilia recently."

"What?" asked the man with the burned hand. His companions, thankfully in the medical tract, were treating his hand and it was already healing. "She hasn't spoken to her since she arrived at court!"

"Who arrived at court?" asked a young woman, her tail swishing away the flies (such trials, being a centaur).

"Hello, Aliyah!" called a man. She settled beside him as another said,

"Lady Queen Ottilia accepted Lady Reagent Daccor recently," said the man with the snake body.

"_What?_ I wouldn't."

"She's sixteen by our standards," said a faun, paying for his coffee. "Just thought I'd put that out there. But I have to go." As he left, most called their goodbyes, falling back into their conversation.

It was another hour before they left, someone ending it by saying simply, "So long as Destane is king, I suppose we'll just have to sit here and wait for the apocalypse."

It would be of note to say that this person was native to Beyr.


	6. Chapter 6

Years of training had long since trained Mozenrath that the correct way to adapt to any situation was to be gentle, polite, and assessing your surroundings while never dropping a small smile. It had served him well. And now, at a tall height with awkward limbs and too small feet, he merely smiled that small smile, polite and perfect for his station, not showing any emotion for the furiously purple king in front of him and the Mamluks around him.

"Is there a problem, sir?" he asked, raising his brows. If he was at all unsettled by the court gathered around them, he didn't show it.

"You know _damn well_ that there is a problem," spat out Destane. Mozenrath took it into account.

"I know there are many problems. None of which I see require having the Mamluks _escort_ me from my studies."

"What problems do you speak of?"

"Well, that Daccor is with child for one. She's been wandering too close to your labs, though, and in creation of the Mamluks, you and I have damaged your child. I also know that there are people starving in the cities but as Crown Prince I don't have any power to do anything about it. I also know that our neighboring kingdoms think our people to be monsters and hate the thought of associating with us." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady Daccor there, hands to both her mouth and bloated womb, tears pouring out of her eyes.

He felt a small stab of remorse. Daccor was a good woman. He shouldn't have said it, not in front of the entire court. But it did make Destane's face turn a very interesting shade of mauve.

"You filthy half-breed." The court gasped, murmuring to each other, but Mozenrath simply blinked. It wouldn't do to let on to the insecurities that plagued him. Destane didn't need to know about his wish that his horns were actually visible. "You know damn well that your _family_ is starting a revolution!"

There was silence. A million thoughts raced through Mozenrath's brain, each faster than the last, until the moment passed and he asked, his voice crafted to be bored, "Did they change the price of salt again? Because I do not know of anything else they could do to rouse a 'revolution.'"

"They are calling for you to be on the throne."

"Well, I am Crown Prince. Perhaps they thought my station jeopardized." And there went the vein in his brow.

This was too much fun.

* * *

><p>"Was it worth it?" the voice made Mozenrath look up. Confined to his rooms like a child, he had a visitor. Rell.<p>

"Was what worth it?"

"Exactly that. To Destane I mean."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I had never heard of any of the things he put before me."

"But you knew about Daccor's child."

"Its damage? Indeed. I can feel it."

"Feel it?"

"Magic sensitivity. You know."

"That's…really sensitive." Indeed it was. Mozenrath had once told him that he could even feel the barriers between this world and the world of Cosmic Energy through the tapestry of the Thirdaks (what was worrying was that he claimed the barrier was slowly thinning. In a few short years things could slip through without much resistance). "But you know that's beside the point."

"Then what is the point? Tell me, I'm curious."

"You angered the most powerful man in the world. Was that wise?"

"Wisdom has nothing to do with it. You've seen the court. The second that Destane tells them that they should smile, they're laughing and throwing parties. They're angry. You know that too. But he tells them to be quiet and they're silent as the grave."

"I think you're more angry than they are." Rell left, calling back, "Ottilia wants to see you. She'll be around later today."

And Mozenrath was alone again.

The thing was, him being an introvert, Mozenrath liked being alone, just him and Xerxes. So this confinement to his room wasn't actually that much of a punishment. It only was as a child because he wanted to go to the Chiem.

But, hours with only your longfin eel could drive you a bit desperate for interaction outside of the lovely little aquatic creature.

"Mozenrath?" asked Ottilia, at the door. He looked up from where he was lying on his back, Xerxes trying to balance on his nose on the boy's finger.

"Oh hello. Come to visit the prisoner?" he asked, the eel going to swirl about her joyfully. Xerxes loved Ottilia, she was kind to him.

"I wouldn't call you a prisoner, Mozenrath." Letting Xerxes fondly nip at her ear, she made her way over to the prince. "What did you do? I leave you alone for one day and you get put under house arrest!"

"It's only temporary." She raised a brow. "Rell told me you wanted to see me. Why?"

She smiled, looking every inch her age. "I bring good news. The Oasis is frozen."

"What?" here he sat up. "Why?"

"Because the water has reached below freezing—what do you think? The fairies of Auber-Upo wanted to have some fun!"

"Everyone could do with some fun."

"Especially you, Crown Prince." He looked up at her. "No one in the seven deserts knows what the future will bring. But you act as if you know we're all headed for disaster."

"Which we are!"

"Which is _why_ I'm taking you skating!"

"Ottilia, I am under house arrest."

"Under order of the Lord King, yes. But I am the Lady Queen. So, get up, get your skates, we are going!"

"Dare I ask what brought this on?" Her smile had a note of secrecy in it, and it didn't promise an answer, so he simply did what she said.

* * *

><p>Traveling Magic was considered difficult magic—it only figured that Mozenrath had already mastered it. He and Ottilia found themselves on the icy shores of the Oasis in Auber-Upo, and it was indeed mainly the fairies of Auber-Upo dancing across the ice.<p>

One took Ottilia's hands and spun her onto the ice, another stealing her away to almost waltz on the frozen water. Mozenrath denied for a while, until one Crystalline Horned woman asked him, "Why not? Can you see the future holding this ice cracking?" He didn't respond so she pulled him on, letting him go and racing along herself.

Mozenrath was never good on skates, so he stumbled and nearly fell far too often for his liking, but Ottilia slid up beside him, taking his hand and skating in the laps with everyone else.

"Ottilia, tell the truth," he said after two laps were made. "Why did you bring us here?"

"Isn't having fun enough?"

"In all my time as your heir, you have never once gone to simply have fun."

"…I suppose. Over there." She nodded to where a man stood at the edge of the Oasis, watching them. He had crystalline horns, sparkling in the sun. Pulling away, the Crown Prince skated over to him, recognizing him when they nearly met.

"Lud!" he slid to a stop only by embracing the man, his cousin, friend, and confidante. "It's so good to see you again! What are you doing in Auber-Upo?"

"Skating." And he held up his skates. "In all seriousness, though. Our aunt let us know that Destane is aware of our revolution."

"Yes, that's the thing. He is aware, but I still don't know what all this fuss is about."

"A few years ago, you sent me a letter, you told me that you were being used in experiments. Your parents went _ballistic,_ got the entire Witternsbahl family, even your siblings-in-law, helping. They want you king _now_. Or home. Preferably both."

"Lud, I'm _fourteen._ Do you think I should be king? I don't." Lud raised a brow. "Alright, fine. I do believe I could be king. But not at fourteen!"

"Sometimes, Mimzy, we have to do things that we don't think we're ready for. I think you know that." He nodded behind the Crown Prince. "Ottilia is waiting for you. You should go back."

"Lud…" the man looked at him. "Why? Why is our family doing this?"

"Because we love you." Lud smiled, and turned, taking his leave.

"Mozenrath?" asked Ottilia, now beside him. "We need to go back."

"…I know."

* * *

><p>"Daccor, calm down." Destane gave no room for argument in his tone. But Daccor was pacing, weeping as she was, rambling.<p>

"I didn't know it would do harm, I thought that…I don't…why did he, how did he, why didn't…" she was unable to stop, caressing where her child was growing. "I am sorry, I am so sorry!" and in apologizing, she dropped onto the fainting couch, letting herself sob.

"Daccor…" he went to her, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Mozenrath is exceptionally sensitive to magic. Knowing him, it's nothing dangerous and he said that to worry you and to anger me."

"It succeeded."

"Yes, it did." Daccor wiped her eyes, taking a long breath. "Daccor, I need to speak with you." She looked up at him, as beautiful, if not more so, as the day they had met. "You heard today, the Witternsbahl family is starting a revolution. And the chances that I should survive it are growing lower and lower the longer it goes unstopped."

"Then stop it!"

"And kill the Witternsbahl family? Without them, Beyr will fall to chaos. No leader would kill the Witternsbahl line. I am not so stupid. If I do die, Daccor, know this. I do love you."

"As I love you."

The silence that ruled the room around them wasn't oppressive. It was a silence with words in. Words that settled in the shadows, words that nestled in the grain of the black sandstone, words that piled so high that they spilled out the window like a waterfall, getting lost in the sand that was restless from the displeasure of her people.

"There's a sandstorm outside," said Daccor eventually, her words crushing the silent ones.

"Yes," agreed Destane.

"They're happening more often."

"She's angry at how her people are acting."

"There is support to this revolution."

"Indeed there is." Daccor took a breath, visibly holding back tears.

* * *

><p>Daccor's tears were founded. In her love for the man, she spent each day worried for him and their child. This worry became very real when the castle was suddenly filled with shouting. Daccor left her room to see Mozenrath and Ottilia there, both soaked in blood, but not being fussed over.<p>

"What happened?" she asked.

"Destane was stabbed," said Mozenrath, his voice quiet. He had known that these things happened during times of displeasure, but the man's blood was caking on his skin. Ottilia, who had caught him when he fell, was even worse, but she wasn't as shaken as he was.

The scream that came out of Daccor's throat wasn't even a scream. Ottilia went to her, taking her in her arms and assuring her quietly about the doctor's ability ("Mozenrath can attest to it." "What? Oh, yes, yes he's-he's very good.") as she signaled to the servants to escort her away.

"This cannot be good for the child," said Ottilia, her tone just as formal and emotionless as ever.

"You don't feel for Destane either?" asked Mozenrath, though he knew the answer. He hated how the silence was letting his mind run. And his mind ran faster than most of the Wind Jackals his uncle and cousins bred.

"Not in the slightest. I support your family, Mozenrath. I just can't let anyone know. Which reminds me, I want to talk to you about something. But first you need to wash up."

"What about you?"

"Mozenrath, I know this was shocking for you, but look at your familiar." Mozenrath did, turning to the eel that was draped across his shoulders. The poor creature was letting out little wheezing breaths, shaking violently. "Blood is never such a strong scent in the water. While you clean up, I can take care of him."

"No." He didn't say anything more, turning and walking away, stroking Xerxes' back, whispering to him to calm him down, the eel's rough voice answering back.

* * *

><p>It took a long time for Xerxes to calm, a long time for the spines on his tail fin to settle and stop being a threat. Mozenrath had had to change his clothes and wash off all the blood before the eel could even begin to calm, and finally he did.<p>

When he did, as though she had known, Ottilia appeared, hard eyed and determined. That look didn't bode well.

"You needed to talk to me?" he prompted.

"Yes. I only can now that everyone is focused on Destane," she said. "It's really—"

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying that you _arranged_ to get him stabbed?"

"Yes, now please be quieter."

"Why? He's been king for…for nearly thirty years and only _now_ you start doing this?"

"Mozenrath Witternsbahl!" he fell quiet. "The only reason that I can do this now is because of you. You are here and you are of an age that you can take over this land should he die."

"I'm _fourteen!_"

"And those much younger than you have been forced onto the throne." He fell silent. Ottilia had suffered more than he. "Now will you let me talk?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you. Do you know why Destane has been making you create the Mamluks all these years?"

"Uh…scientific interest?"

"No, that's why you've been putting up with it. He's been creating them so as to create an army for himself."

"Why would he want a personal army?"

"For this." And from her skirts she produced a small scroll. Taking it, Mozenrath unrolled it, his eyes flicking over it. "I got only the gist of it, most of it is code in ancient languages…"

"He wants to take over the Seven Deserts. He knows each one has some magic in it."

"From when the Sand Witches ruled, yes."

"Fear tactics. That's what the Mamluks are for in the weaker countries, and since they can just keep fighting…by Amm…"

"And you know that the Generals and Parliament have both been pushing to expand our borders again."

"He's going to have support. And a _good plan._"

"That's why I need to talk to you."

"Oh yes, look here, 'kill everyone.' Brilliant."

"Mozenrath…"

"And he plans to…well that's actually quite smart. I wouldn't have—" he cut off with a cry of pain when his eel bit at his ear, hard. "What was that for?"

"_Listen to Ottilia, Mimzy,_" the fish replied.

"Fine, Mother. You were saying?"

"Thank you, Xerxes. You know very well that barely anyone wants Destane on the throne. With this new development, it's best if we strike now. Your family is still waiting but they're ready. So is the land herself, can't you feel it?"

"She is angry…" There was a knock and they froze, before immediately assuming the positions of an emotionally shocked prince being comforted by the emotionally mature queen. But the door opened and admitted Rell. They fell out of these positions.

"I brought the thing," he said, directed to Ottilia. He was holding an ancient looking book. "Mozenrath, Ottilia sent me to get this, I don't really know what's in it either. Please don't hurt me."

Ottilia took the book, and delicately opened it. "There is something in here that I feel both of you need know of. Have you ever heard of the Gauntlet?"

"Once," said Mozenrath. "Destane mentioned it. I think." Upon their looks he elaborated, "He mentioned it during an experiment, one that Rell dragged me to the doctor afterwards from."

"And do you remember anything about it?"

"It's powerful? It's all rather blurry."

"Understandable. The Gauntlet is a magical artifact, much like the collection in Ortenburg. Whether it's good or bad magic is…well, it's debatable."

"How so?" asked Rell

"It channels and concentrates your natural magic."

"Like what Destane tried to do to me," said Mozenrath, producing a blue flame in his hand (Ottilia missed the green, she really did). "But it works?"

"Very much so. Wars have been fought over it in the old times. Whoever wore it was said to have the power of the Gods."

"Truly?" asked Rell.

"Yes. Why would I joke about that?"

"You have a very strange sense of humor, my lady." As Rell spoke, Mozenrath took the book, looking at the drawing of the man with the glove, fire shooting from his hand.

"Indeed. Now, legend has it that during the reign of the Sand Witches, it was hidden away. Some say in the Empty Temple."

"The Empty Temple? That's a myth!" scoffed Mozenrath.

"To most lands, the idea of _you_ is a myth, hybrid that you are." Silence fell, charged with an unnamed emotion.

"…You're right. And now why this lesson?"

"Because, Mozenrath, you are going to find it, you are going to wear it, and you are going to claim back the Land of the Black Sands in the name of the Habens line and the Witternsbahl line." The book dropped to the ground, out of slack pale hands. The spine snapped and it lay there, broken.

An incredulous laugh escaped the Prince. "Ottilia, I'm afraid you're overestimating me."

"No. I have kept contact with you parents. Since you were small, you were trained in magic and you have been very good at it. What I've seen and heard has only confirmed this. But you also had no fear. You nearly died once, I've heard. Do you remember the months you weren't allowed to help in experiments? You were actively dying. Two brushes with death, and you were fearless. I believe in you."

"Ottilia, I didn't leave Beyr until I met _you!_ My mother was the first one in the Witternsbahl line _for centuries_ to leave this land! I come from a family of over glorified _salt merchants!_ I…" he trailed off, the deep rolling clicks coming from his familiar soothing him while the hand on his shoulder from Rell grounded him.

"If it means anything," said Rell, "and I don't know if it does…but I believe that you have more than enough potential in you for you to do this." Both Lady Queen and Crown Prince turned to him. "I just…I grew up in Zyul. Do you know what's in Zyul? Nothing. There's an abandoned manor, the Duke of Zyul has been dead for _years_ and there hasn't been a new one since. We have a mosque to Amm and we have one man who teaches music lessons there. We have a school taught by the Imam and very few of us leave. We grow sugar, rice, barley, wheat, millet, oats, and rye. That's it. We have no say in what happens to us from you here at court. We keep our heads down and export what we grow and pay our taxes.

"But having Destane as our Lord King…no one wants that. It's not…I mean…a human as Lord King? No, that's just not _right._ And then there's you, Mozenrath. You're half human, and your other half is our people. It's like you were born to be the transition. You're more than capable, you could bridge the gap between humans and our land, mend the ties broken years ago.

"I know I sound like a rambling fool, but I think I understand you. When you have a goal you will see it to the end, no matter what route you have to take. That's what we need in a king right now. So…just set your goal to get Destane off the throne. You'll find a way." Mozenrath didn't say anything, he just drew his legs to tuck underneath him, his hands fisting in his blue silk robes.

"Rell…" he finally said, "you've seen me at my worst, when I've dropped my guard. I'm just a kid whose only friend for a very long time was an eel and even then spends most of his time reading in libraries and wishing he was running up and down the beach. Do you want that child on the throne?"

"Yes."

"The philosophers have always spoken about how we need Scholar Kings and men who are at peace with nature ruling us," said Ottilia. "If that's your worst, your best can be the greatest king we've ever had." She took his hand, squeezing it a moment before standing. "I need to visit Destane. Protect your minds, the both of you. No one can know this occurred, are we clear?" The two boys nodded.

* * *

><p>"I don't like this. I really don't like this." County Machim looked up to see his wife pace the room. "Mimzy's my baby, I can't…"<p>

"Ludovika, come here," said Machim gently, standing and holding open his arms. The Countess let her husband embrace her tightly. "He is going to be fine. He is a brave child, you know that."

"He's just a _child_, she can't really expect him to…"

"Do you remember him backing down from anything? Nalzenrath wanted to go hunting, Mimzy would ask us if he could go too. Have you forgotten? Separation makes the heart grow fonder, yes, but he's grown. He's not the little boy we saw off anymore. Your sister has long been working to keep him safe. Do you doubt her?"

Ludovika knew that everything he was saying was true, but she had carried him screaming from the land of too bright sunlight into their land, she had rested in inns on her return and fed him her milk. She had watched him play with Agulstine and Néné, she had seen his magic crackle off of him so subtly it took a mother to see it. She couldn't imagine her baby on the throne. That was too dangerous, let him _come home._

"I want him home, Machim," she finally said. "I want my Mimzy home. It's too dangerous at court. He can live on the Chiem if he wants, just take him _out_ of Ortenburg."

"We will. I promise you, we will."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Rell is turning more and more into Antonio Salieri entirely by accident and I don't know how I feel about that. Because I love that Italian but...hmm. Also, when did Rell's hometown turn into Legnago?

I need to do some thinking. Let me know what your thoughts are.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Super long chapter, brace yourself!

I own all the citizens, Marwan, Rashid, Ali, Abu, and Salih and the Empty Temple. That's it. Oh, and some magic theory.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath was woken when a hand covered his mouth. Immediately, his survival instincts kicked in and he attempted to get away as a bag was forced over his head. However, he had had a spell of eating little to nothing, so his body wasn't up to fighting and his mind was too sleep addled to call forth magic. Not that there wasn't a valiant fight put up by the pale Prince.<p>

He was dragged out of his bed, and next thing he knew, the bag was removed and he was in the stables. Standing before him was Ottilia. She had a very concerned look on her face, and upon making eye contact, she knelt down, placing a hand on his cheek. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Am I…_what the hell just happened?_" he shouted.

"Shh!" looking around, she continued. "You remember the conversation we had about the Gauntlet and the Empty Temple?"

"Yes."

"You're going to find it now."

"And I couldn't be told because…?"

"Now Crown Prince been kidnapped has," said a man beside Mozenrath. He looked up to see a human there. "We left note."

"Thank you very much," said Ottilia. "Mozenrath, I hired these men to help you. They are going to take you out of the country and then help you get to the Empty Temple. Tomorrow morning, the struggle you so wonderfully left will be found and Rell will ride after you. One of these men will wait for him and guide him. Are you alright with this plan?"

"I…I would have appreciated some warning," said Mozenrath. "But the plan is sound."

"Come along then." She helped him to his feet and nodded to one of the human men who brought forward a horse. "I know he's not yours, but he's swift and strong. He will serve you well." Mozenrath climbed on, wrapping the reins about his hand. The humans mounted their steeds. "Head south. My Amm smile on your quest." She and Mozenrath shared a fleeting and nervous smile before the horses turned, galloping away. Behind them, Ottilia enchanted the ground to look as if the struggle had continued, walking away to bed.

* * *

><p>The men were good people, and were overjoyed to find Mozenrath fluent in Arabic. The man in charge was called Rashid, and he had apologized about twenty times over for scaring him when he had stolen Mozenrath out of his bed.<p>

"You have made your point!" insisted Mozenrath, already feeling uncomfortable in the golden sands around him. "I forgive you for it."

"Not good to have royalty hold a grudge. It always comes back to haunt you," he insisted.

"Well seeing as you aren't a citizen of my land, I think there won't be a problem." Rashid snorted and pulled his horse to a stop, calling out to all of them as they followed suit,

"We split up here! Salih, you wait for the Prince's companion." The man nodded, nudging his horse away. "The rest of us, we have a ways to ride yet. Come on!" and they continued on.

Mozenrath had never ridden like this before. A destination but no set road. He and his horse (whether it had been Horse as a Duke or Surefire as a Prince) had never had such freedom. There was a track to ride on at the Castles and Palaces, and a single trail as a child. And even in those times, he had had to have someone there to check his riding, make certain he wouldn't hurt himself or ride away. Here, here he truly was riding with the wind. And he _loved it._

Sure, he could fly. Sure, he could travel within instants around the world, but why should he? Why trade it for this _wonderful moment_ when the morning sun warmed him and the wind kept his black curls from resting even a moment on his neck? The sound of the breaths rushing in and out of the creature beneath him, the dull thumping of hooves against granulated rock, all of it was so lovely and so _free_ that he couldn't help but let out a whoop, urging his horse faster. He heard the men laugh and hurry their own steeds, but he didn't and couldn't care.

Finally, they reached an oasis, pulling to a stop to water the horses. The sun was high and with his pale skin, Mozenrath was already beginning to wilt. His mother certainly hadn't been lying when she said the outside deserts were far too harsh for anyone of their land.

"You know," said Rashid, watching as the boy gulped down all the water, "your neck is blinding, let alone what your horns are like."

"You can see my horns?" he asked, taking a break from hydrating himself.

"Sure. They shine something impressive. Ever think of a way to keep us from falling off our horses?"

"It's not a problem back home. My neck never shines there and you can barely see my horns."

"Hmm. Well here, here's an idea." He went to the saddlebags and pulled out a length of linen, something that looked like bandaging, and handed it to the other. "Why don't you wrap this around your neck? Keep that hidden at least." Mozenrath took it, and did just that. The cloth was soft enough it didn't aggravate his skin, but it did do the job, at least that's what Rashid said. Perhaps he would have to do this in the future, should he ever leave his country again.

"Will we meet Rell and Salih here, then?" he asked.

"Is that his name? Rell? You people, such strange names you have…Yes, Salih knows to meet us here. Your companion will be here."

"Will your friend be so blinding as you, majesty?" asked another man from where he was unsaddling the horses. "Will we have two of you to worry of?"

"No, no you needn't worry. Rell is a full blooded Faun, there isn't a crystal to his horns," said Mozenrath. Around him, most people froze. "What?"

"A Faun? Fauns are fairytales," said a man, Ali.

"Fauns are one of the Cardinal Races in our land. They are one of the few races that can intermarry with viable offspring."

"What else do you have in your land? _Pixies?_" laughed another man.

"Yes. They bite."

* * *

><p>And so Mozenrath found himself describing the many different races, from Cardinal to Quaternary, the ancient system ranking the species, and describing the Great Slaughter and how his home was a haven for magical creatures. Somehow, he found himself describing the varying colleges for magic and arts and sciences and such when they heard the hoof beats growing closer.<p>

Entering the firelight cast around the oasis were the two they were waiting for, Rell and Salih. Dismounting his horse, Rell brushed himself off before noticing Mozenrath and rushing to him, calling his name. "You were fantastic! The maids were sobbing their eyes out when they found your room!"

"Yes, well when you don't know what's happening, struggle isn't too difficult. Did Ottilia tell you?"

"Vaguely. And as I was leaving at that. I was worried about you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Good. Do you have water?"

Once Rell was recovered, he joined Mozenrath by the fire, and was obliged to show his cloven feet, outright refusing to show his legs. ("It would be indecent!") "You know," said Salih, "I really didn't expect you of all people. I was expecting someone who looks closer to the queen or this one" here he nodded towards Mozenrath "but not a Faun."

Once Mozenrath translated for him, Rell nodded and said (as Mozenrath translated back), "Yes, Elves and the Crystalline Horns do look more human than us other species. Selkies too, but they're rare."

"Not so rare. My some number great-grandfather was a Selkie," said Mozenrath.

"That might explain your fascination with eels."

"Speaking of, how is Xerxes?"

"He still doesn't know, as far as I saw. Panicking something fierce and despite mating season coming up, he doesn't want to go to the Chiem until you are safe. Ottilia promised she would try and calm him."

"He just found a mate last year too…He's only in his forties, he needs to go."

"Exactly why Ottilia is trying to calm him and send him off."

"I'm not allowed to make contact, am I?"

"No, you're kidnapped, remember?" Mozenrath let out a small groan, rubbing his face with his hands. "Look, if we ride fast, this will be done pretty fast."

"You're right." He sighed and said to the humans, "I am going to sleep. How far away from the Empty Temple are we?"

"About two days ride," said Rashid. "Depending. The Empty Temple is _thought_ to be where we're riding. If it isn't, you can magic us there, right?"

"Or at least nearly. I need to know exactly where I'm going to get us perfectly there, but I could get us to the area, unless there are magic wards."

"Too complicated for me," said Ali. "I'll follow your lead, majesty, and get some sleep as well."

Mozenrath had only a sleeping roll, which he had never had before. But he found that, despite the discomfort, it really was nice. He could see the stars above him, and while he knew constellations perfectly well and all the directions and timings they held in them, it was different to just _look._

When he was king, he would definitely take some time to go by himself and enjoy this.

* * *

><p>The sun rose to find them already riding. Given, they were slightly late, as the men wanted to marvel over the stirrups for Rell's saddle, but their pace made up for lost time. Rell and Mozenrath rode next to each other, though the prince's horse could and would go faster than Rell's mare. Not that Rell wasn't used to his friend and prince riding ahead of him and taunting his own slow horse.<p>

Rell, knowing his friend as well as he knew himself, knew that Mozenrath was _loving_ riding through the land of the humans, while he himself was wilting in the sun very quickly. He also knew that the tying back of his hair and the constant flicking of his head meant that Mozenrath knew his horns were able to shine and be seen, and while he loved it, he was still new to seeing the rainbows that sparkled where the light landed.

"That vain?" he called ahead. Mozenrath turned back to him and, knowing what Rell meant, made a face at him. Rell simply laughed, he hadn't seen his prince act like that before. He was thriving in freedom.

Rell, listening to those around him talk to each other and hearing them interact with Mozenrath, found himself almost wishing that he too could speak Arabic. Mozenrath would want to come back out here, and if he did, Rell would have to go with him to keep him safe. How could he do that if he couldn't communicate?

Pushing the thoughts aside, he focused on how Mozenrath was slowing to ride beside him. "I was thinking," he said. "How is Daccor?"

"Lady Daccor? She is supposed to give birth either later this week or early next week. When she heard about your kidnapping, she was the one to insist that I go after you."

"She did?"

"She likes you. A lot. No one else at court enjoys gymnastics, that's only you and Daccor."

"And that's reason enough?"

"One of many reasons, I believe. I don't pretend to understand her feelings. I find it difficult to, what with her devotion to Destane."

"She's a good woman."

"I know that."

"You didn't sound like it. Is her relation to Destane really enough for you to condemn her?"

"I thought you hated Destane."

"I do. But Daccor is not Destane. She is the Lady Reagent of Auber-Upo, with a good mind for numbers and politics. I respect her, I am fond of her. I worry for her."

"Your premonition of the child?" Mozenrath didn't reply, but his silence was affirming. "He will be born Graf-Lord of Auber-Upo. Perhaps a higher title if Destane feels so inclined. A titled child will not be neglected. He'll be fine."

The two lapsed into silence, riding under the unforgiving sun.

* * *

><p>As the boys rode free and wild, Daccor was in bed, gasping and clutching at her lover's hand with all her strength. The black sandstone Citadel Ortenburg was built of seemed to be shifting, recognizing the same damage to the child that her Prince had noticed.<p>

As it always was with births of Lady Queens or of Lord Kings' Mistresses, the room was crowded, filled with courtiers here to see the birth of the child. In this crowd, only Ottilia noted the shifting of the sandstone. It was difficult for her not to, being Lady Queen.

"She needs air!" snapped the doctor. "Give her air!" Upon the command, the Lord King summoned wind to stream through the windows, freshening the room. It also knocked a few hair ornaments off the wigs of both ladies and men, but that was of little concern.

The wind kept a steady stream for the next hour, until Daccor let go of his hand, taking long, deep breaths, the child in the doctor's hands crying softly. "A son," he said, presenting the child to his parents. As he did, those in attendance burst into joyous whispers and soft conversation.

"He's beautiful," breathed Daccor, taking him and uncaring of the clear substance that coated the child's body. "Oh by Amm, he is beautiful."

"The Duke of Zyul," proclaimed Destane, before taking the son and handing him to the waiting maid, bearing him away to be bathed.

"Duke of…" started Daccor. When Destane nodded with that secret smile in his eyes, she started crying of joy, silently through her exhaustion.

"Rest. You need your strength," he said. She smiled up at him. "Everyone, out. Lady Daccor needs her rest." And they did, murmuring to each other about the new Duke of Zyul and how happy they were that the Crown Prince had been wrong and that he was well.

"I love you. Will you make certain our son is healthy?"

"I haven't forgotten what Mozenrath said. Sleep, I will see to it." Brushing back a strand of hair, he stood and let her sleep, walking past where Sotkia, now aged but still as dedicated as ever, stood with Ottilia.

"Congratulations," offered Ottilia as he strode past. Stopping, he turned to her, regarding her. Only a child, she was no older than some of the girls he had seen whilst buying slaves. He was only human, sorcery made one knowledgeable on many things, but he was still clueless when it came to his wife. Little more than wife in word, they hated each other, he knew that. Ottilia had grown close to their heir, the young sorcerer prince from a family that stayed greatly independent yet. She had grown close and now that he was kidnapped, she had retreated behind that callously polite mask she had always worn. The mask he forced on her when he stole her throne and innocence.

"Thank you," he finally said. Polite. They didn't know how to be if not polite. "Sotkia, with me."

"Majesty," the older woman said, curtsying before following. "What do you need?"

"Check if your nephew's claims are true. See about the health of my son."

"Very well, majesty. I shall report to you immediately." And she turned down one of the many twisting halls, going to see about her Lord King's request.

As she did, Destane continued to his study, where he was studying a cloak that protected the wearer from any weapons. He looked up not five minutes later when the door opened. Sotkia was there, pale and shaking.

"Majesty," she breathed. "Your son…he will never walk."

"What?" he roared, standing.

"His legs. They're too crippled. The doctors say that unless Amm himself comes to bless the child, he will never walk. He's a sickly little thing, unless proper care is given he won't live long enough for that to be a problem—"

"Then _ensure the proper care, Sotkia._" His voice was quiet, but the quiet voice was the one that promised pain and suffering—perhaps not physical, but always there. "I will not see the boy die, not after all I've put into this child."

Sotkia curtsied deeply. "Of course, majesty."

"Tell Daccor, but be a bit more delicate."

"Of course."

"You are dismissed." When she left, he dropped to sit, looking at the sandstone around him. It disturbed one of the tapestries, making it rustle quietly. His land was unhappy, and the faint howling of a very distant sandstorm only helped solidify that fact. But _what_ made it so unhappy? The revolution toeing the arch separating the city and Citadel of Ortenberg? The crippled son of the king? The kidnapping of the Crown Prince? Everything was so wrong that he didn't know what to do or how to pacify anything.

So he would do the only thing he knew what do. He would soldier on, not give an inch for fear of having a mile stolen. He had held control over the land for over thirty years. He could hold on long enough to have everything wrong die down. Rell Dissel of Zyul would return with Crown Prince Mozenrath, the doctors would heal and fix his son, and he didn't know what to do about the revolution.

* * *

><p>News of the kidnapped Crown Prince spread like wildfire. In the city of Ortenberg, rumors spread that someone had seen a group of riders, another claimed that they had something that flew, and no one seemed to agree how it happened. In the town of Zyul, Rell's older brother told everyone he knew that Rell would save him, people listened to him and took faith, because while that boy had been a bit of a troublemaker, he was brave and sure. In the town of Erasba, the Cardinal Archbischoff of the Mosque of God Amm led group prayers for the safe return of their prince, many men and women coming to pray for him outside of the prayer sessions.<p>

But when the news reached Ischl, the Countess Ludovika, who had gone with her daughter Agulstine to recover from the stress she had been under, had actually screamed. She and Agulstine had been wandering the town, and had seen in one of the newspapers that were being sold the headline of "Crown Prince Stolen from Bed!"

Agulstine caught her mother as she fell, clutching at her breast in horror. A crowd formed, all either wanting to see or help the woman clutching her daughter and wailing, "No! Not my baby! My baby, my Mimzy!"

"Is she alright?" asked a man. Agulstine looked up.

"Crown Prince Mozenrath is her son and my brother. Of course she's not alright," she snapped. She didn't feel…sad, per say, just angry. Angry at Mozenrath for being vulnerable, angry at his kidnappers for stealing her brother, angry at those at Citadel Ortenberg or whatever castle he was at for letting it happen… "Come on, mother. Let's go back to the inn…you can get a drink and a bath…" She helped her mother stand, and a male elf approached.

"Eugenen Hanstae," he introduced. "Let me help." Agulstine regarded him distrustfully, but within moments nodded. She needed her mother to calm down before she could work through her own emotions on the matter.

They reached the inn and immediately Ludovika was settled in a private bath. As she was taken care of, Agulstine turned to the man who helped and said, "Thank you, for helping my mother. I won't forget it."

"I'm certain you will, highness," he replied. "You can't remember every kindness, can you?" Agulstine blinked a few times, surprised. No one had ever spoken so bluntly to her before. "Let me introduce myself again. Eugenen Hanstae."

"Duchess Agulstine Witternsbahl of Beyr."

"An honor, highness." He took her hand and bowed over it. But he didn't let it go. "I know that it isn't much, but may I offer you a drink of some sort?"  
>"After hearing my brother was abducted? I will gladly take that offer." He led her to the coffee house in the inn, calling for a hot pot of coffee to be brought. Agulstine drank deeply of the dark drink when it arrived, breathing fiercely out her nose.<p>

"You seem upset, highness," commented Eugenen.

"Of course I am. Do you have any siblings?"

"No."

"That would explain it…one of my brother's names is Eugenen."

"Is it?"

"Crown Prince Mozenrath Amal Eugenen Witternsbahl. Strange, I never thought anyone could be named that outside of a second or third name."

"Well here I am, proving you wrong…about your brother…do you want to talk about it?"

Agulstine scoffed. "My brother…I haven't seen him in years. His letters are rare, and he's dying. What is there to talk about? How much I miss him? How I want him home?"

"Why not?" countered Eugenen. "Your brother has been kidnapped. Even if he returns safe and sound, this is still going to be a big event in the lives of both your mother and yourself. Let alone the rest of your family."

"If he dies…"

"Which he won't."

"And why are you so sure?"

"Why would kidnappers kill him? They want a price for him, they wouldn't kill him." Agulstine looked at him evenly a moment before gracing him with a smile.

"I like you, Eugenen Hanstae."

* * *

><p>On the third day of his "kidnapping" Mozenrath's horse suddenly reared, upset at something. Digging his knees in and clinging to the reigns, the noble boy clutched to stay on the creature. The other horses were calmer, but Rell's also began to back up. Letting his horse move away from whatever there was, Mozenrath dismounted and stroked the stallion's nose, murmuring softly to it until the panicked eyes calmed.<p>

"What happened?" asked Rashid.

"I have a theory. Where did you get your horses?"

"Mine came from Agrabah," offered Ali. The others agreed.

"They don't register magic, then." Rell dismounted his mare, looking to his friend curiously. Mozenrath lifted his hand, and with a quiet word of power, a simple light spell burst from his palm, shining blue as it floated forward. Rell could hear the disquieted murmurings from the humans, but they didn't seem anything more than impressed by the magic.

The spell itself drifted forward a few feet before it suddenly burst into blue flames, a tiny view of stone visible in what used to be thin air. It closed moments later. "By Allah…" breathed Rashid.

Mozenrath turned, momentarily surprised that they worshipped the Rain God, but turned back to what was in front of him. Taking a breath, he walked forward. A shudder ran through him, but everything still looked about the same. Furrowing his brow, he summoned the same glowing light. However, the moment it formed, he was flung back towards the horses, landing hard on the sand, wind knocked out of him.

"Yes, I was right," he wheezed. "Magical wards."

"What does that mean?" asked Salih.

"It means that we can't get in without magic but it rejects magic." Standing with Rell's help, he dusted himself off. "I think I know what to do." Taking a moment to get his breath back, he mounted his horse, and Rell followed his lead. "Everyone else go before me." And with a breath, he stood in his saddle, and from his hands, blue fire shot forth. It struck the ward, it melting beneath the foreign magic, just large enough for a horse and rider. "Go!" and the party rode forward, and when the last passed through, Mozenrath urged his own horse forward. As it galloped, he had to stop the fire. He barely slipped through as it sealed shut behind him.

Before him stood the Empty Temple in all its glory. True to the legends, it stood with golden statues guarding the staircase leading to the top, and at the very peak stood a statue, weathered beyond recognition.

"And now what?" asked Rashid.

"Now we search for the Gauntlet," responded Mozenrath, dismounting his horse. "We'll be here for a long time."

Mozenrath was right. The only entrance was at the top, and there it was a trapdoor. From there, there were winding corridors, doors and chambers branching off. Mozenrath and Rell both held light spells in their hands, letting them light all around them.

"Do you know where you're going?" asked Rell after a while. Mozenrath shook his head.

"Haven't the faintest. Do you have a better plan to get through here?"

"No, not really."

"Thought so."

"Why can I understand you?" The outburst was so unexpected from Abu that the two boys turned. The humans all looked rather frightened.

"In our language?" asked Rell.

"Yes. Oh by Allah, why can I understand you?"

"By Amm," whispered Mozenrath. "This place must be doing this…"

"No," snapped the faun suddenly. "We're here for the Gauntlet. Nothing else. No studying."

"But—"

"No." Mozenrath sighed but turned, carrying on.

"Is he always like this?" whispered Salih.

"Yes, always. I have to force him to eat sometimes."

"I eat!" called back Mozenrath.

"Yes, a mouthful of fermented bean curd and that's it! Maybe some fruit."

"I had two eggs the day before we left. _And_ a bowl of soup."

"The tailor told me your waist is nineteen inches."

"And?" with that, Mozenrath picked up the pace, forcing everyone to speed up as well. As they continued, Mozenrath's gaze kept being drawn to more and more empty chambers, enough that Malik, the largest of all the humans, dared ask,

"What's wrong, majesty?"

"I just…" he said. "I keep thinking I see things in there. Nothing but trick of the…shadows…" he actually stopped, peering into a room. "A man who wasn't a man…"

"Mozenrath?" tried Rell.

"Hmm?" he didn't turn, entranced by something.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing…I just…I'm going in." And despite the collected clamor of "that's not a good idea!" he entered the empty chamber. To him, all sounds were muted and the room was very cold. The light he held seemed to dim, and there, in the corner, just out of the light, was the man who wasn't a man. Only a moment, but long enough for a slight movement from it to exist, a tiny nod towards the wall. A heartbeat later, it was gone. The sounds came back, the little heat returned and the light was bright once more. Stepping to the wall, he enlarged the light, peering at what was there.

A low whistle sounded from behind him, reminding Mozenrath that Rell and the others were there. They all looked up at what was on the wall. It was the same illustration as in the old book, a man with the Gauntlet on his hand, arm outstretched, his cloak billowing out behind him. Rell brightened his own light, and there they could see it, the rest of the picture. Before him, cities were falling and hundreds lay dead. Turning, Mozenrath lit the other side. The same man faced the other way, the arm gently bent, gesturing elegantly. Before him, cities shone and people praised him.

"Well. That's certainly something," said Rashid.

"A warning," said Malik. "Look, it's the same thing. It can do great harm and great good."

"I should hope that you will be inclined to the second," said Rell.

"You should hope for a lot of things, Rell. One of which is that there's a way out," said Mozenrath.

"What are you…" when he turned however, there was no entry. The room had no way in or out. "Mozenrath Witternsbahl, you had better have a way to get us out of here!"

"Working on it, calm down." But instruction to calm had no place where panic was growing. It turned out that Abu was claustrophobic, if the sudden gasping and tears had anything to show. Mozenrath, he closed his eyes, distancing himself from the panic about him. "You were just here," he breathed. "Why bring us all here? You know me, you let me go. Why not again?"

He didn't know exactly what he was speaking to, but he remembered a fall from a tree on Hélené's big day with all his family and a man who wasn't a man. He had thought it to be Death, the one power Destane came close to worshipping. Perhaps it was. Perhaps…

Mozenrath walked forward, his eyes still closed. He reached the stone carving and then passed through it, a gentle tingle of magic letting him know what happened. Opening his eyes, he turned, and peered through the illusion, calling to his companions, "Hurry up, then."

They spent the rest of the day in the corridors and passages, climbing over rubble and ducking under fallen statues and beams. True to its name, the Empty Temple was devoid of most anything. There wasn't a single spider, there wasn't a single piece of furniture, there was nothing.

Needless to say, after a while none of them felt that secure. Distractedly, perhaps in an attempt to calm himself down, Ali began to hum. It was very soft, but the tune was nice and indeed, it did calm the fears that they felt. Now feeling braver, they continued.

The gentle tune didn't keep them brave for long. Further, they once again lost heart. As they walked, Salih said, "I have a sister, you know. Loveliest singing voice you'll ever hear. Smart too, she taught herself how to read."

"I have a brother," offered Rell. "He's the one who's going to inherit the family farm but everyone says that my sister's got the best head for it."

"I have nine siblings," said Mozenrath. "Well, seven now, Nalzenrath and Wim both died when I was very young."

"Seven?" echoed Malik.

"Yes. Technically, they're only half siblings but I don't think of them that way." In sharing little stories about their families, they grew brave again, and continued on.

It continued like this for quite some time, until they reached a large room. There wasn't a single thing in it, besides a plain brown glove lying in the corner. But to Mozenrath, it was screaming at him, magic drawing at his, tugging painfully at him until he acknowledged it.

"Mozenrath, do you feel that?" asked Rell. The Prince nodded, unable to tear his eyes from the thing. "That's it, isn't it? That's the Gauntlet."

"Great harm and great good." And there it was again, that dimming of everything. Faintly there was the figure, on the far side of the room. It approached and entered the light. It was a man who was not a man. Simple as that, just as Mozenrath remembered from his fall from the tall tree. "You are Death," he said. The figure did not respond, not verbally. It approached, and took Mozenrath's right hand. The grip was cool but not unbearable. It drew a line from the tip of his fingers all the way to the shoulder. Squeezing there, it vanished.

"I don't get it," said Marwan. Everyone jumped. The man hadn't spoken a word the whole time. "What are you feeling?"

"It's complicated," said Rell, turning to him. "Our land is magical, we're on a rift between realities. That means that raw magic pours into the sands. That's why we refer to our home as though it's sentient, because it is. Through this, our species have evolved to absorb and sense magic. The Gauntlet is very insistent that we recognize it. Mozenrath, he's very sensi—_Mozenrath!_" he cut off when he turned and saw the boy about to place the glove onto his hand. And place it onto his hand he did.

* * *

><p>Daccor named her son Auberrath. His full name and title was Duke Auberrath Agulst Bour Montes of Zyul. He was second in line for the throne, after Mozenrath, but if he didn't come home, he would become Lord King.<p>

Sotkia and the doctors had gently told her about the damage done to the child's legs, and she had decided that she would not give her son to a governess. She would raise the child by herself to make certain he would grow healthy. Destane had agreed and even encouraged this, ordering the governess chosen to help Daccor if she needed it, but stressed that the Lady Reagent would need very little help.

Auberrath had been given a brace on one leg, as it turned out that only one needed such vigorous correction. The baby was _not_ happy about it, though. Daccor had to hold the child close as he screamed and cried about the brace—at least, presumably about the brace. It was hard to tell what he screamed about most of the time, perhaps he was hungry? Wanted to sleep? Was the brace paining him? Needless to say, the governess was called in more than a few times a week.

However, Daccor always managed to calm her son when the brace became a source of screaming. She would pull him close and sing to him, rocking him back and forth as her famous singing voice wove stories or simply told him "sleep, my little prince, sleep on."

Destane's involvement was largely in name only. He visited the child a few times, but other than that, he sent presents to the child or ensured that only the best doctors cared for him. But his visible devotion to Daccor hadn't diminished. Daccor knew his aversion to children and didn't take it personally when he excused himself when the child awoke from his nap, simply making him promise to visit her again before letting him go.

Ottilia found herself becoming more and more fond to the baby, holding him herself when Daccor needed sleep, using magic to tell stories, making horses out of insubstantial golden shimmers or people out of purple bubbles. Auberrath loved them and tried to catch them, though they danced out of reach.

When she told these stories, Xerxes sometimes joined them. It was the few times that he stopped panicking, stopped burrowing into Mozenrath's bed, stopped flying a diameter around the Citadel. The longfin eel clicked and hissed at the child, who seemed to like the noises, and when Xerxes spoke, Auberrath looked completely entranced and surprised.

It was during one of the times that Xerxes was entertaining the child that he suddenly grew restless. His tail was flicking back and forth over and over. "What's wrong?" asked Ottilia, her golden horses still racing around Auberrath, keeping him distracted.

"Mozenrath hurt," said Xerxes, obviously feeling the pain or at least impression that it was happening. "Screaming."

Ottilia looked at the eel in horror. What had she done to him? Was it her doing at all? But Xerxes couldn't elaborate any more than that. Or he just didn't want to.

* * *

><p>They built a fire near where the horses were, preparing a meal. Everyone was silent, Rell most of all. He had Mozenrath's head on his knee, the boy alternating between delirious wakefulness and restless sleep. He was waking up at the moment, and was muttering just the same as after the experiments. Muttering about Death, his brothers, when they would go to the doctor, where was Xerxes? But he slipped back into sleep pretty quickly, leaving Rell to adjust the arm. Just touching it made Rell uncomfortable, but he didn't want it lying in the sand.<p>

"Do you know if…" whispered Malik, unable to finish the sentence.

"I don't know anything about the situation," murmured Rell. "I don't know what to do but keep the wound clean. This was done by magic, it will heal quickly."

"And then?"

"And then we go home. Mozenrath overthrows Lord King Destane and inherits the throne, we send him home to Possenhof in Beyr to his family and I go home to Zyul to my family. I'll leave the Lady Queen to figure out everything else." Malik nodded, and turned away joining Marwan by the fire. Rell knew they had to be quiet for Mozenrath, but the silence, it just let his mind wander back to what happened inside the Empty Temple.

The screaming had been horrible. It wasn't even a sound that should come from anyone's throat. It was the sound of original pain, the sound of an animal in so much pain that nothing could express but the rattling, choking scream. Rell had tried to do something, anything to make his friend stop screaming, but had drawn back in disgust and horror when he saw the sheer amount of blood pouring out of the glove.

"_Mozenrath, what did you _do_?"_

When he drew enough courage to grow near, he heard it under the screaming. There was a wet chewing noise. Rell immediately realized that the Gauntlet was _eating his friend's flesh._ Promptly, he grabbed the glove and tried to pull it off his friend's arm. But it clung onto the bone underneath, perhaps tighter if the way Mozenrath's screams grew louder was any indicator.

"_Stop it right now. He's paid your price in blood and flesh, stop it. You will kill him. He was dying anyway, don't make it worse. Stop it right now!"_

Rell had no idea what had stopped it, but now his hand was nothing but bone up until just above his elbow, where the flesh was ragged. Rell kept it clean and hoped against hope that it would heal as a magical injury should.

How was he supposed to explain to Ottilia what had happened?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **It's been a while, if anyone's actually reading this. Not much to say here, so...enjoy!

* * *

><p>When they woke the next day, the ragged flesh on Mozenrath's arm had healed perfectly, and if the bone wasn't there, it would have looked like he had been born with a deformed arm. Rell was relieved, the magic had healed it and now he didn't need to worry about it so much.<p>

As they tried to figure how they were supposed to get him back, the Crown Prince suddenly gasped, shooting up and crying, "I didn't pay!" The surprising shout made many jump, and Rell immediately went to him.

"What didn't you pay?" he asked.

"Death's price!" Mozenrath looked terrified, and that unsettled Rell. He was shouting too, which meant he was very volatile.

"What do you mean?"

"Death was there, the man who wasn't a man! He…he told me, but he didn't say—can Death talk? But he told me, that I had to pay up to my shoulder. I didn't pay, I didn't pay…" And there he started to shake, fingers forming wretched claws into Rell's clothing. "He's going to kill me. I don't want to die. I don't…"

"You're not going to die. Death isn't going to come after you." Rell kept up that sort of thing as he let Mozenrath cling to him and shake, terrified and crippled. However, the tighter he clung, the more that the newly disfigured right hand dug into his skin becoming more and more painful. Finally, Rell let out a hiss of pain, feeling the bone break the skin. At the sound Mozenrath drew back, looking at the spots of red. "I'm alright, It's just that you don't have the bone covered. Do you want to wear the Gauntlet or…"

"I sacrificed so much for it…I'll not shy away now." He took a deep breath, standing and reaching for it. As he did, the bones clicked and rattled, making him stop and pull it close, obviously disquieted. Rell picked it up carefully and passed it to his friend who pulled it on. With his sleeve, it was impossible to see the bone beneath.

Going to his horse, Mozenrath mounted, wrapping the reigns around his right hand as he always had. "Uh..majesty?" it was upon Rashid's prompting that Mozenrath looked down and unwrapped his hand, wrapping them around his left hand instead. He didn't look at all happy. Even riding wouldn't raise his spirits again, it seemed. Rell, before mounting his mare, went to Mozenrath and looked up at him, saying softly,

"We'll take you home, Mimzy. You can see your family again."

"Like this?" he raised his gloved hand.

"You have to sooner or later."

"I don't want to face them. Not now."

"You'll have to, they're the ones leading your army."

"Then I'll see them." And Rell nodded, going and mounting his own horse. They started out, and Rell began to see things about his friend. He wasn't as good at controlling his horse with his left hand. He looked increasingly distressed as they rode on. He rode next to Rell the whole time, not nearly riding circles around them as he had been.

"Are you alright?" Rell asked. Mozenrath barely glanced to him, turning and holding on tighter to the reigns. He didn't speak for the rest of the day.

* * *

><p>Agulstine and Ludovika returned home to Possenhof, where Leeno and Enriet were the first to meet them. County Machim had fallen ill, nothing more than a mild cough, but in her distressed state, Ludovika went to him, worried out of her mind and convinced he would die.<p>

Agulstine, on the other hand, went to her study, and took out a small scrap of paper. On it was written the address to which she should write to reach Eugenen in Ischl. His father was an artist, apparently, and he was going to take up the trade. He could come to paint her and they could see each other again.

"Agul?" asked Leeno, looking into the room. She looked up at him. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Lee…Lee?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think that…that maybe we'll never get Mimzy back?"

"He'll come home. I know it."

"But…"

"The kidnapping? They wanted him for a price. They aren't about to kill him."

"I suppose. I met a man in Ischl, he said the same thing."

"See? Nothing to worry about."

"I just…"

"Néné is in the same way. I am too. He's been through too much. I don't want him to be king. I want him here where I can take care of him, keep him safe."

Agulstine sighed. She had come to terms with her emotions, she had come to realize that she wanted her baby brother home. Why fight that pain? Let it wash over like the waves of the Chiem, like wind that rustled the fruit trees in the garden. When it washed away, it would be gone. When it washed away, she would be fine.

"I will see you at dinner." Her brother left, and Agulstine turned to her desk, beginning to write to Eugenen. She missed the companionship he offered for the short while she was in Ischl. Ludovika was too distraught to leave their room, so Agulstine had seen Eugenen every day. And now she missed that companionship. Hopefully, though, this correspondence would ease that.

* * *

><p>Xerxes was not happy. Not at all. The sheer amount of pain rocketing between himself and his master had put him off leaving until he came home. And everyone was trying to get him to leave, to return to the Chiem, to leave his master. He had visited his Master's family the last year, receiving messages to relay to their youngest but he would not this year.<p>

He had a new mate, Amestris, a beautiful if small Longfin. She was young, just thirty six, but was as mature as those double or triple her age. She may be mature, but if he did not mate with her again, she would shun him. But his master had been so _hurt._ How could he leave the boy he had seen grow so cold, how could he leave the boy who had nearly died, how could he leave his oh so beloved Master?

"Xerxes?" he turned from where he had been doing anxious turns in the aquarium in his Master's room (how hadn't he woken to defend the poor boy?). Standing there was Lady Daccor, her face drawn and pale, her sleeping son in her arms, his stillness and the brace making him look as though he was cast of wax, his leg still in need of drying. "I feel an idiot. You understand me, yes?" Xerxes merely nodded. "Xerxes, I need a friend. Will you be my friend?" the eel was confused, but pulled himself from the water, resting on the rim to let the water he needed be absorbed within his body before floating over to her.

"Why?" he asked, his voice croaky still from the impression of the screaming come from his Mozenrath.

And all at once, Daccor began to cry, pressing her lips shut tight as she fought not to sob and rouse her son. "I have no friends," she said, her voice shaking. "Everyone is blaming me for my son's illness, they're saying that if I hadn't been such a stupid little girl…" Xerxes had never been one to stand watching someone cry, and settled around her shoulders, a weight of a comforting presence.

"Master your friend."

"Yes, but he's been kidnapped and even when he's here he...I apologize, you don't need to listen to me complain."

"Lady not okay. Talking make you better." And that was how she ended up sitting at the table covered with texts and equations and drawings. She held her son just as carefully as always, but she wept bitterly, finally letting all that was within her come pouring out in one rush. It took a long while, but she did eventually take a deep breath, clearly feeling better. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you Xerxes. Will you keep being my friend?" the eel nodded, and she smiled, though sadly, and took her leave as her son woke and began to scream for pain of the brace.

* * *

><p>Ottilia wanted to leave. She <em>hated<em> Ortenberg. She had seen a youth start to die there, she had seen a boy born so sick that he would die before he reached adulthood if not kept under constant care. Women forced to watch as their sons died and brothers who were too afraid to stop their sisters from being married off to men who would not treat them the way they deserved.

"Mozenrath wants nothing to do with the military," she said to herself as she worked on her embroidery angrily. "And I want nothing to do with Ortenberg." Adding a shine to the eye of her phoenix, she continued to mutter to herself, angry and upset. She had caused him pain, so much pain and she hadn't meant to. Rell would take him to the Witternsbahl family, but she wanted to be the first to see what had happened, wanted to be the first to do anything to soothe either pain or memory.

And as she continued to work, adding shadows under feathers, growling to herself about everything that was wrong with her home, the place that she was supposed to protect and keep safe from outside forces.

"Ottilia?" a croaky voice asked. She turned and saw Xerxes there, his tail slashing through the air in anxiousness.

"Xerxes, come in. I'm not in the best mood, but you are certainly welcome."

"When does Master come back?" She looked at the eel and then to her embroidery, phoenixes and roses, eels and lilies. Her personal crest of a phoenix and a rose and Mozenrath's personal crest of an eel and a lily side by side and intertwined.

"Xerxes," she said eventually and very quietly. "There is something that I didn't tell you." He looked at her, trusting and open. "Mozenrath…wasn't kidnapped." She expected the hiss of anger, but she hadn't expected the eel to release the spines along his tail and to slap her bare arm with them. She let out a scream of pain, and Sotkia, who was with her while Destane was meeting with the Király of Vorarl through magical connection, looked up, rushing to her queen's side.

"Is he poisonous?" she asked, inspecting the marks as the eel continued to click and hiss at her, swirling between twists in his own body,

"Only a little bit. It will cause me a burning rash but it won't do me permanent harm."

"If need be we can keep him in the aquarium."

"That won't be necessary. Because he is going to go to mating season at the Chiem." The eel hissed at her, the spines on his tail still exposed. "Sotkia, let me speak to Xerxes alone." She frowned, but did obey, taking her papers and leaving the queen. "Xerxes, it was the only way. If he knew it was happening then he wouldn't have reacted the way we needed him to. Please understand."

"Master _hurt!_ Master _screaming!_" the eel snarled, his voice growling and littered with clicks.

"I know! I know! And I never meant to hurt him! He went to the Empty Temple to find the Gauntlet. I hired some men and they are his escorts. Rell followed them, he's taking care of Mozenrath. They are going to Beyr, back to Castle Possenhof. That is why I want you to go to mating season. You can see your Master then."

* * *

><p>The Land of the Black Sands loomed before them, home at last, weaker sunlight and yearly variations of temperature. A familiar land so strange to outsiders. So when they reached the edge, the Crown Prince and his friend turned to the humans and Mozenrath said, "We thank you. If you would come with us, you would be honored guests at Castle Possenhof and you would be greatly rewarded."<p>

"No, I think we're fine. Who knows, we may come calling later," said Rashid. "Can we count on the hospitality of the king?"

"Indeed you can. Live well, all of you." They said their goodbyes, and Rell and Mozenrath returned to their home, already much more at home. "Rell, do you have enough magic to travel us to Beyr?"

"Possibly. Or at least halfway there. Do you not want to?"

"The Gauntlet strengthens your magic. If I try, we may end up on the other side of the world."

"Fair point." And so Rell closed his eyes, and took a breath, whispering a soft Word of Power. When he opened his eyes, they were not in the scraggly mixed sands, but in the midst of the sands so dark they looked like overturned soil on his family's farm fresh from plowing. Soil the color of night, made dark with an overflowing of life.

"We're about a day's ride to Possenhof," Mozenrath announced, turning his horse. "We're actually close to my uncle's palace."

"Then why don't we go there?"

"My uncle isn't going to be there. He's _never_ been in Nympen this time of year. He's the Király of Beyr, do you think he has one palace? Come on!" and he was off, racing after the prospect of _home, finally home._

Their journey wasn't overlong, considering that Mozenrath campaigned to go as far as possible without killing the horses. They had to spend the night where they could just barely see spires of a castle, and if listened carefully to the sound of a waterfall faintly roared. If Rell took a deep breath, he could smell the faintest scent of water, the scent of the famous Chiem. He knew his friend was itching to keep going, but he knew very well that both they and the horses needed their rest. And so he was fully prepared to argue that _yes_ they needed sleep _no _they couldn't keep riding and did he _really_ think that trying to cast a light spell while still so unaccustomed to the Gauntlet was a good idea? That had shut him up.

Rell glanced over at his friend one last time, making certain he was asleep and wouldn't have to worry about him riding off in the night and ending up dead by falling off the horse or worse. Mozenrath was fast asleep, his lips parted slightly where his jaw had relaxed, eyes darting about softly in dreams. A welcome difference from the past few nights of screaming nightmares. Perhaps it was being back in their own country, perhaps it was how close they were to his home. Either way, Rell certainly was not complaining.

* * *

><p>The sun rose to find Mozenrath still asleep, curled into himself as if to protect his arm, and as the boy slept, Rell quietly readied the horses, so when he awoke, there would be no delay. Once the horses were readied, Rell approached the prince, touching his shoulder and rousing him. The boy was drowsy, but upon seeing the sun, he shook himself awake, hurrying to mount his stallion.<p>

"You really want to go home, don't you?" asked Rell as he mounted his mare.

"Don't you? You haven't been to Zyul in years."

"Of course I do. Merely an observation. Now we're still a bit away, shall we off?" And Mozenrath was gone, his horse rushing along.

They avoided the city, Mozenrath was still assumed kidnapped after all, and yet soon enough they were racing along the road leading up to Possenhof, their horses breathing hard under them, but still carrying them fast as they could go.

Finally, they reached the front gate, and the horses pulled to a stop. Mozenrath dismounted, staring up at the castle in fondness and joy, much as Rell looked on in awe. He knew that it was limestone that made up the cliffs and quarries in Beyr, but only Beyr used the limestone. And seeing an entire castle built without the black sandstone that he had seen every other building crafted out of…

"That is a beautiful home," he commented.

"It was built hundreds of years ago," said Mozenrath. "I can hardly take credit for it." And as he spoke, the door to the castle opened. From it rushed an aged woman, tears streaking down her face. "_Mama!_" and he went to her, embracing her back.

"Oh Mimzy," the countess wept. "Oh Mimzy my baby. Baby, baby, baby my dear my darling. Oh darling. Darling, dearest, my sweet baby. Oh my Mimzy. Mimzy my Mimzy oh, oh, oh…" Following her came a veritable swarm, men and women coming and each trying to get Mozenrath's attention. Rell stood to the side, watching his friend embrace a beautiful young woman with all the love his mother had embraced him.

"Who is this?" one of the men asked, looking at Rell curiously.

"Everyone, this is Rell Dissel," introduced Mozenrath. "Rell, this is my family. He's the one who brought me home."

"Oh Rell, you have done us a service," said the oldest man, probably Mozenrath's father. "Come, you must be hungry. We'll feed you and draw you a bath. You are our guest here." And with that, they withdrew inside the castle, the old man's arm around the youngest, holding him close.

* * *

><p>Rell had forgotten how wonderful baths were. In the palaces he had been in before, the baths were always styled in the Arabic way, a public bathing area. It was understood that you didn't look at anyone and no one looked at you, but here in Possenhof it was entirely private.<p>

"The old style," he realized aloud. Possenhof was hundreds of years old, no wonder the bathroom was as it was, lit with dark green flames. Also, there were no attendants, and Rell was a thousand times grateful for that. He hadn't had anyone in the room while he was bathing since he was a mere baby, and he had never gotten used to it.

But _by Amm_ did it feel wonderful to wash all that sand out from his fur. At first his fur and hair had resisted each pass of his fingers, slick with oil, but now they easily slid through, catching at his horns and that was it. There was a gritty film of sand forming at the bottom of the deep pool, but he didn't care, he was clean.

Finally, he pulled himself from the sweet and blessedly warm water, shaking himself dry and dressing himself. Outside waited a maid, with a sweet smile on her face. She led him to a sitting room, where the family was convening. Mozenrath was there, washed just as well as he, simply held in his mother's arms, looking as if he didn't want to go anywhere.

"Rell!" greeted one of the women, just a few years older than him, waving him to join her. "I don't think I'll ever be able to say how happy I am that you brought him home."

"I didn't do it for thanks, madam."

"Oh don't call me madam, it makes me sound like my mother. Besides, you're Mimzy's friend! You're our friend too. I'm his sister Hélené."

"Duchess…you were supposed to be Crown Princess."

"Did Mimzy tell you that story? It really was a surprise for us all, most of all him."

They talked for a while, Rell being introduced to the surviving eight Witternsbahl children. Finally, a man came in and announced that lunch was ready. Mozenrath walked arm in arm with Mathilde, talking to her about nothings. They made their way to the dining room, and that was when Rell saw just how much a problem years of separation could pose.

The table was laden with food, oysters, clams, fish, and every other imaginable type of seafood, though there were beds of greens. Mozenrath looked at the table and realized the very same thing. He could eat very little of what was here.

"We had all your favorites made," Countess Ludovika was assuring.

"Mother…I appreciate it," he said haltingly.

"Oh no, did something happen?"

"I…I can't eat meat anymore. But I still am able eat some of what's here. You don't need to do anything special."

"Nonsense! We'll have the cook make a few new dishes. It may take a bit, but—"

"I can wait," he assured.

"If we will not be eating," the aging Count said. "I would very much like to speak to you, Mimzy." And the two left, the others dispersing until lunch could truly be eaten. Rell just followed Duchess Hélené when she bade him to.

* * *

><p>Mozenrath had never forgotten the innumerable boats gliding across the massive lake, the faint and indistinguishable shouts from those sailing those same boats, the occasional splash from some lake-creature. But there were a million other things he had forgotten, the sound of the roaring waterfall, the feel of the smooth rail of the staircase, where that off step was (his father had to remind him before he fell).<p>

"It's the eels' mating season," Machim said, waiting at the bottom of the staircase for his son as he stared across the waters happily. "Xerxes should be coming. He visited us last year."

"He told me," Mozenrath said, joining his father on the soft sands.

They walked together in silence for a long while, jumping over the tide pools, Mozenrath picking up what shells he found. And finally, Machim said, "I am old, Mimzy." Mozenrath turned to him, surprised. But yes, in the years he had been away, his parents had both grown old. He was the youngest of ten children, of course they had grown old. "I am not going to be here forever."

"I know," the teenage boy murmured.

"Your uncle is very sick. Lud will become Király of Beyr soon. Leeno got married you know, and he and Enriet are already expecting a child."

"I've missed everything," Mozenrath said softly, looking down at his armful of shells.

"We've missed everything too. I suppose we are going to have to relearn." And they continued walking along, and finally Machim said, "Mimzy…"

"Yes?"

"What is that glove?" Mozenrath stopped, looking at his father a moment before saying,

"The Gauntlet."

"And what are you planning on doing now that you have such power?"

"I…I took this to overthrow Destane. No one wants him on the throne, no one ever has. We've just all been too _scared_ of humans to do anything about it."

"Mimzy…I know it seems like we've all just been cowards, but do you know why he hasn't been overthrown before?" His son didn't respond so he continued. "There have been attempts. Even the _Sklaverfrei_ movement was along the same, trying to take away the ideals brought in by his life in the foreign lands. But any time that there has been a direct uprising against him, he has always sent out his army. Not the country's army mind, his private army. They have killed whole neighborhoods in cities because there was a threat to his reign. I love you, I don't ever want to see you hurt. It's dangerous to outright protest his claim to the throne. And now that his private army is literally immortal…"

"But I _made them!_ I need to do something, I…I'm Crown Prince! He wouldn't kill me so quickly!"

"His mistress gave birth to a son." Mozenrath fell into silence for a while before he very softly said,

"I want to visit Wim and Nalzenrath."

* * *

><p>Hélené had taken Rell all around the castle, showing him everything there was to show, and finally they came to the chapel, where they had all spent so much time through their lives. She was showing him her ancestors, the same he had seen portraits and tapestries of. "That was Countess Adélïde. She was called the Jewel of the Salt Lands."<p>

"Was she the one that had that affair with the Selkie Lord?" Rell asked, struggling to keep up.

"No, that was her niece. Her son married Adélïde's granddaughter Palati. Palati isn't buried here, she and her husband were buried in the Chiem, where his father came from."

"How do you remember all this?" She simply laughed to herself, and turned when the door opened. Standing there was Mozenrath, carrying shells in his crooked arm. Hélené went to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before saying,

"Are those for Wim and Nalzenrath?"

"Yes," he replied. "Papa and I went to the Chiem." And he went to two graves, placing the shells in the place where flowers were usually placed. Hélené was smiling as if nothing was wrong, but Rell could tell. He was unnaturally quiet and reserved, something had happened, something that did this. Not being in the resting places of his ancestors and brothers, anyway.

But there was no time to consider it, for they were being summoned for lunch once more, and Rell was ready to eat a horse.

* * *

><p>After the meal, Rell found himself sitting across from the couch where the Countess had Mozenrath's head against her shoulder as he dozed off, the first time Rell had seen him do so. He was happy and safe back in his home. Truly, it was almost shocking to see the boy he knew to have hardened his heart against the world to have turned so welcoming to his mother's embraces and the kisses his sisters gave him.<p>

Rell came to a realization then. Mozenrath spent most of his time with the women in his life, he was good friends with Daccor and Ottilia, and there he sat with his mother, letting his sister lay her embroidery across his leg as she worked. Indeed, the Crown Prince had always dreaded having to assist Destane, and Rell had not seen him spend time with any male but him willingly. How strange.

"Tell us about yourself, Rell," prompted one of Mozenrath's brothers, Kal if Rell was remembering rightly. "We've heard nothing about you."

"Well I…I don't think there is much to say," Rell said, smiling sheepishly.

"Nonsense, everyone has a story. Where do you come from?"

"I…I was born in Zyul. My family lives there."

"Zyul…that's in the south, yes?"

"Yes. We're the biggest city in the area. Farms, mostly."

"Oh, and how did you come to be Mimzy's friend?"

"Lady Queen Ottilia brought me to be his companion. Mostly to remind him to eat."

"He didn't eat?" asked Mathilde, looking up from her embroidery.

"Sometimes. He would start reading and then forget. Nothing to worry about."

"Rell, we did receive a letter telling us he was dying. You needn't spare details," said Leeno from where he sat with his pregnant wife.

"I apologize. We are going to war soon, I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry…" muttered Agulstine. "I fear we will never cease worrying."

"Agul, you have been in a fine mood since you returned from Ischl. What is altering that now?" asked County Machim.

"Look at him!" she said, gesturing to Mozenrath, who jolted awake at the sudden loud noise.

"Agul," said Ludovika softly, but it was enough to calm her.

"What is the matter?" Mozenrath asked quietly, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"Nothing, darling."

"Everything is the matter," Agulstine said, though not so loud and sharp as before.

"Agul…" started Mozenrath, sitting up.

"It's all well and good for you, Mimzy, but we've had to sit here terrified for you."

"Agul, do you truly think that everything was right and easy for me?"

"We've been here, waiting for word from you and what have you done?! You've barely written us, you've been _dying_ and you only told Lud about it! And why the _hell_ haven't you taken off your riding glove?!" There was a pregnant pause while Mozenrath drew his arm close to him and Enriet stared at Agul, Ludovika looking quite upset about her use of language.

"It isn't a riding glove," said Rell. He saw quite easily where Mozenrath got his slow burning but explosive temper. He knew how to handle that. "That is the Gauntlet. It's a magical artifact, and it extracted a price he has decided to keep from you." Mozenrath looked to his friend disbelievingly, but to his friend Rell only said, "Don't keep it a secret from your family. They love you and deserve to know." And with that he stood and left the room, letting Mozenrath show the price he paid without him there.

* * *

><p>Betrayal was the only thing Mozenrath felt, betrayal and fear, actually. His family, by blood and by marriage, was all looking to him in concern. And despite his slightly more distant relationship with his brothers, he still looked away in shame when his brother Kal asked, "Mimzy, what price?"<p>

He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to show what he had done to his family. He did it to overthrow Destane, to protect his family and his homeland. To take power and do a _bloody well better job_ than Destane ever had.

"Mozenrath," said his newest brother-in-law, Mali's husband Frankis, a Király in the province of Mecsek, just to the northeast of Beyr. Frankis was also the only one of his siblings-in-law that Mozenrath had met in person before that day. "Please show us."

"Mimzy…" pleaded his sister Mathilde, and he finally sighed.

"Death set a price," he said, voice miserable. "I had to pay it, but I only paid half. He's going to kill me."

"What did this price entail?" asked Mali, taking her husband's hand. With a heavy sigh, Mozenrath reached for the glove and pulled it off.

Someone gasped. There was a very long pause, punctuated by the quiet clicking of the bones when they twitched as their owner fidgeted under such scrutiny. And finally, very quietly his mother breathed, her voice shaking,

"Oh _baby…_" He turned to her to see tears running down her face, hand held tightly by his father.

"Mama…" Mozenrath murmured, and was drawn into an embrace. "I did it to protect you."

"Mimzy…" moaned Hélené, obviously wondering if she would have had to do the same as he should she have been chosen. Listening to the sympathies and consolations his family was offering, Mozenrath felt tears prick at his eyes. They remained that way for a long time, muted under the weight of what he had done. Mozenrath let a few tears slip down his cheeks, his mother brushing them away gently.

Finally, Machim spoke. "You've done it now, Mimzy, whether for good or for ill. Best thing we can do it simply work with it."

"I thought you didn't want me to act against the Lord King," said Mozenrath. Frankis turned to his wife, but she gave him a look that promised him an explanation.

"I don't. But I don't want you hurt any more than you already have. You were dying and you've given up your arm. You've paid a flesh price and that's quite enough for me."

* * *

><p>The two servants assisting dove to the ground, protecting their heads as the statue beside them exploded. "Sorry!" called Mozenrath. "Sorry!"<p>

"Well," wheezed Machim as he stood from his own dive to the ground, "we know we have to work on." Mozenrath looked around. He was supposed to be throwing flames at the target in front of him. Instead they had caused a patch of flowers, a statue of a nymph, and part of the wall of the hedge labyrinth to explode. Leaves and petals were still drifting towards the ground.

"You were right," said Rell as he too stood. "Purifying your magic like that, you're dangerous."

"Thank you Rell!" snapped the Crown Prince. "I know that!"

"Calm down, Mimzy," advised Ludovika from where she was watching, picnicking with the rest of the family. Mali was explaining to her husband about the situation regarding Mozenrath and the Lord King, and from what they could see, he was agreeing with the idea. "Anger will just make it more difficult."

"Thank you, mother!" He turned back to the target, and closed his eyes, taking a breath. He kept his eyes fixed on the target and focused on creating a small amount of flame. He felt his magic leap to the command, and before he knew it, a giant flame was burning in his hand. With a surprised cry he put it out. "This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to do anything when I can't even make a little fire?!"

"Mimzy, it may seem hard now, but you'll get it eventually." Mozenrath let out an angry huff, obviously not convinced. "Give it another go." Taking a deep breath, Mozenrath let his stomach and chest expand, his shoulder blades to spread, and tried again. The flames caught his sleeve. With a yelp he batted out the flames.

"This isn't working! All I'm doing is destroying things and setting myself on fire!"

"Mozenrath, you were the one who mastered travelling magic and nonverbal flight before you even turned fourteen," Rell said. "You speak Arabic, Greek, Egyptian, Cimmerian, and you can communicate with _eels_. You aren't the sort of person to give up."

Enriet was making her way over, an aging woman following her. Mozenrath turned, recognizing his old nursemaid Nell. "I thought that Nell might be able to help you," Enriet said, smiling.

"I may not be a magic theory scholar, but I might be able to help," the nanny said. "Why don't you explain it to me, Mimzy?" Mozenrath smiled, she used to use that tactic to help him understand his lessons as a child.

"It purifies your magic, makes it stronger. I don't know how exactly it managed that, but that's what it does."

"Alright, so if it's stronger, does that mean you have to use more magic?"

"I think it needs less, Nell."

"Alright, let me see if I understand. Say it's like a horse. If you have a mare you need sturdy reigns and strong loops under her to keep your saddle on."

"Yes."

"And if you want to climb the tree over there" she nodded to the tree from which Mozenrath fell as a child "then you want to go for the thicker branches, yes?"

"Yes, Nell."

"So if you have a stallion you want reigns made of twine and a crumbling loop under him. And if you want to climb a large tree you go for the thinner branches?"

"No, you…you want larger." He turned back to the target, and when he did, everyone took a step back, Machim moving to stand in front of his daughter-in-law. Raising his hand, Mozenrath summoned as much magic as he always did. A massive fireball came shooting at his hand, and as it travelled, it shifted to the shape of a lance. It hit the center of the target, setting it to blue flames that swiftly cooled to orange. The servants rushed over with buckets of water, putting out the fire fast as they could. "Nell, you are a genius!" he pressed a kiss to her forehead, making her laugh.

"Do you know how dangerous that was?" asked Rell. "Imagine if that wasn't the answer!"

"But it _was_ the answer, Rell, I would happily ask you not to perform the role my wife and I play, worrying about him," said Machim. "Mimzy, do you think you might be able to do something like that again?" The boy nodded, turning to where the statue still lay destroyed. Summoning magic again, he reassembled the statue. "Brilliant work, Mimzy!"

"Is that…" muttered Nell from beside the boy, peering off towards the Chiem. The others turned and Mozenrath let out a delighted cry of,

"Xerxes!" and indeed, it was the eel, flying towards them fast as he could. Happily chirruping, the eel swirled about him, his tail flicking at the Crown Prince's ears and horns. Laughing, Mozenrath responded in clicks and chirrups the same, the eel happily settling around his shoulders. The two clicked at each other, prompting Kal to laugh, and say, "You certainly were telling the truth that he can speak to eels, Rell!"

"Have you come from the Chiem, Xerxes?" asked Hélené, prompting the eel to turn to her.

"Yes. Met with Amestris first." He then turned back to Mozenrath, clicking again. "_I was worried about you!"_

"_Sorry,_" clicked Mozenrath. "_I didn't know it was happening either! But now we have the Gauntlet._"

"_It hurt you._" Mozenrath nodded. "_It's not good._"

"_Only if I use it for the worse. But I'm going to get rid of Destane, and isn't that good?_"

"_The outcome is good. What you did to achieve it, whatever it did to you, that is not excusable in any way. Mimzy, understand that._"

"_I do. I do, I promise._" The eel was obviously still very upset about whatever pain had been inflicted on his human, but did settle around his neck fondly. They would worry about the price later, for now, Mozenrath had to continue practicing his magic but now his familiar was with him as he did.

War wasn't far away, they all knew it, but for the moment they would picnic in the gardens of Possenhof and pretend with all their might that perhaps their war wouldn't result in too many deaths.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I honestly don't have anything to say about this one.

I do not own Disney nor any characters or places associated therein.

* * *

><p>The days spent at Castle Possenhof were oddly idyllic, especially for Mozenrath, who knew very well what he would have to do. Eventually, he couldn't remain there any longer. There was a massive riot in Ortenburg, one that had resulted in the deaths of five men and seven women, and that had been roused by none other than Ludovika's sister Sotkia. They were led by a band of students from Beyr and the way they heard it they were all armed and ready to kill.<p>

"You will be safe, won't you?" Ludovika was saying, wringing her hands as her son readied his horse. "As much as you can, at least."

"I will, Mother, I promise," Mozenrath assured, taking her hand in his. "I've got Rell and Xerxes and they've kept me alive this far, haven't they?"

"The moment you can, you come straight home, understand?"

"Yes, Mother." She embraced him tightly. "I won't make you wait years this time." She let out a bleak laugh and let him go, holding him at arm's length a moment, studying his face.

"Be careful, Mimzy. I won't have you dying on me. I've lost two I won't lose my baby." And the turned to look very pointedly at Rell and said, "You keep my baby safe. If he gets hurt I will find you, Rell Dissel."

"Mother leave him alone," laughed Mozenrath, now climbing onto his horse. Ludovika frowned at him, but did step back to join the rest of her family.

"Be safe," said Mathilde very pointedly. Hélené, who was crying, simply nodded.

"I'll be back before you know it. I promise."

A simple travelling spell took Mozenrath and Rell into a back alley in Ortenberg, where they could see the Citadel plainly. Mobs were at the gate, but the Mamluks were holding them back from entering.

_Ottilia will have been hidden in that secret room in her bedchamber,_ Mozenrath thought to himself. _Daccor as well. Auberrath is at risk, but Daccor will keep him safe. Destane…he will probably be out soon enough._

"Are we…?" prompted Rell as he watched his friend dismount, beginning to stroke the horse's nose and holding tight to the reigns.

"Yes. As soon as Destane comes out," replied Mozenrath shortly. They both winced at the sound of a woman's shriek of pain.

"Are you so certain he'll come out at all?"

"Do you trust me to know the man I've lived with since I was nine?"

"Fair enough." And they waited, listening to the sounds of citizens angry at their sovereign, half their attention to soothing their horses. They were so passionate that Mozenrath couldn't help but begin to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't be able to satisfy them. If perhaps they would turn against him and he would fall under their swords the same way they hoped to do to Destane.

Finally the man did emerge. They couldn't see him per say, but given the increase of shouts and curses from the mob they assumed and it was confirmed when they could hear his voice. "Citizens, I do not understand your unrest! Return to your homes, no more will be hurt. I have been told twelve of your own have died, prevent more from joining them!" he was saying, his voice magnified by magic.

"_Amm_ I hate that man," growled Mozenrath, mounting his horse and nudging it into a walk. Rell followed, feeling far too exposed, even among the centaurs. Within seconds, they were noticed by the mob and they actually _began to cheer_. Rell's fellow citizens never failed to astound him. Apparently they were just as enamored with the idea of the Good Prince and the Evil King as small children were when they heard of the same characters in stories.

The crowds parted before their steeds, and soon enough they reached the gate. Mozenrath and Destane looked very pointedly at each other, and Mozenrath raised his gloved hand. Destane, if one knew him as well as the two teenagers unfortunately did, looked actually scared. Mozenrath said nothing, but he did send a spell that glowed a deep blue to engulf the gate. It spread, snaking its way around the elaborate golden gate that stood between the Citadel and the city of Ortenberg and suddenly, the gate was breaking apart, crashing to the ground, the gate itself falling atop a Mamluk, making some of those nearby shriek as it fell apart but didn't lose consciousness, trying to bring itself back together again. Rell guessed that the only reason that the mob hadn't stormed the Citadel yet was because of how Mozenrath was standing in his saddle, one hand still burning with flame. They were waiting for his command.

"Are you so afraid to face your own people without something protecting you?" said Mozenrath, his voice hard and icy, a stoic Crown Prince who was righteously angry at the King and no longer the youngest son of the doting mother Ludovika and loving father Machim.

"Why should I fear those beneath me?" snapped Destane.

"Without the common people, the king has no power. It wouldn't surprise me that you wouldn't understand, human and corrupted as you are."

"And you? You're a halfbreed, are you any purer than myself?" It struck a nerve in Mozenrath, it always did, to be called a halfbreed. His father had accepted him, his mother had never once mentioned his birth father to him, what more needed to happen before the incident of his biology was forgotten?

"I am the child of the Count and Countess of the Salt Lands, I am a son of the Wittelsbach line. You have no right to the throne you hold and by Amm by tomorrow you will no longer hold your title!" and a spell was shot towards the man, who vanished with a swirl of his cape. He turned to the mob, and simply pointed to the Citadel. They needed no further instruction and rushed forward. Their Prince was on their side, at last!

"Mozenrath!" called Rell. "Go find him!" Nodding, the Crown Prince set his horse to a gallop, racing up the path to the grand doors of the Citadel that were being assuaged by the mobs. Finally, they broke open, and they stormed inside. Mozenrath, for his part, dismounted, and rushed with them, leaving his horse in the entrance hall. He ran first to the laboratory, but Destane was not there. Swearing, he continued to search anywhere he could think of. Finally he simply stood, heels of his hands digging into his eyes, fingers grasping at black curls. Destane could have gone _anywhere._ Panic dropped into his stomach at that thought. Destane could have gone to Schwagau to where Lud was or he could have gone to where one of his sisters lived, he could have even gone to _Possenhof_. He couldn't have gone to Possenhof. Possenhof was a safe place, it was a sanctuary, no harm could come to anyone there. Destane _could not_ have gone there.

"Prince Mozenrath!" and the cry of his title, he turned to see a woman there, pulling him out of his growing panic. "Someone saw Destane and Lady Queen Ottilia in the gardens."

"What?" That didn't make any sense!

"Apparently he was going into the labyrinth there."

"Thank you. I don't know who you are, but thank you." And with that he jumped out the window. He could hear her cry of alarm, but with a thought he was airborne and flying to the labyrinth. There was a secret there in the center. Yes, many courtiers met there with those they were having affairs with (he had nearly stumbled in on far too many of _those_ meetings to know that) but the center had the secret. There was a statue there, carved from a Crystal of Ix, hidden under a layer of rose colored marble. Mozenrath didn't know what _exactly_ he planned to do with it, if he was going to catch Ottilia in there. If he did, Mozenrath realized, if he destroyed the statue Ottilia would die. He could use that as leverage to keep the rebels at bay, to stop his inevitable death, for no one wanted any harm to come to their beloved Lady Queen. If he did that, then they would have no choice but to stop, to let him win, and he would realize the Wittelsbach family was the catalyst of this rebellion and his family…No, there was no way in Heaven, Earth, or Hell that Mozenrath would let harm come to his family, no matter the cost.

Mozenrath made it to the center before Destane came, his hand wrapped tight around Ottilia's wrist, a fierce and angry expression on his face. Simple flames tossed at his feet stopped him for shock. "Putting your wife in danger?" asked Mozenrath, trying his hardest to show none of the fear he felt. He didn't even know what that mob was _doing_ in the Citadel.

"You…" growled the Lord King.

"Yes _me._" Keep the panic down, just keep him away from the statue. It seemed there was a voice in his head, coaching him on what to do, how to stay alive, how to get home and talk to Agulstine about why she had been so secretive about that letter. He's gathering a binding spell, now. You can avoid it. You have the Gauntlet, you can stop him. Beware of Ottilia, she's in danger, don't hurt her.

The voice in his mind apparently didn't figure in the fact that Ottilia was perfectly able and willing to hold her own. She was gripping viciously at the back of Destane's neck now, forcing him down and looking to Mozenrath, as if encouraging him to just _get on with it._

Mozenrath knew he would have to decide Destane's fate, but he didn't want to kill him. Not for that he thought he deserved anything better, but that it didn't seem like _enough_. Destane had done so many wrongs (his father once said that there had been none of those prejudice laws against the Snake-Men until Destane came to power and Wind Jackals certainly weren't a _standard_ in how law enforcement handled smaller issues) and simply killing him in the garden…it didn't seem right.

In his moment of hesitation, Destane got free, and immediately Mozenrath needed to throw up a shield to protect himself from the spell that rocketed towards him. As he did, a simple thought prompted the Gauntlet to provide the spell needed to send the statue behind him far away. He would figure out where later, for the moment he just needed it gone. The howl of anger from Destane made the small smile grow on Mozenrath's face, but it vanished soon as Destane grabbed at him, shouting at him, "Where did you send that, you stupid boy?! _Where did you send it?!_" out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ottilia fleeing. Good, she was safe. The voice in his head returned then, no longer calm but shouting at him, _HE'S TAKING THE GAUNTLET!_

And yes, Destane was trying to pull off the very glove he had sacrificed his arm for, the one weapon he had that would help him win. There was no way he would let Destane get it.

His struggle only lasted until Destane pinned him to the ground, a hand wrapped around the boy's throat, cutting off his air. As Mozenrath gasped and choked, the Gauntlet was pulled from his arm. The soil against the bare bones felt like hell, but in the half second Destane stared at it, he clawed at the man's face, leaving long bleeding gashes down his face. With a pained shout, the man pulled away. Mozenrath, finally able to breathe again, simply gasped gratefully.

He looked up when he heard Destane let out another cry of pain, and saw Xerxes there, the spines along his tail burrowing into the man's cheek, right where his own skeletal fingers had clawed. Destane swatted at the eel, but Xerxes was still young and dodged the man's blind strike easily. Snatching up the Gauntlet, the longfin eel gave it to the boy, who took both the magical artifact and grasped the eel to bring him to his chest as he saw the harmful spell being formed by Destane.

A shield was thrown up to protect both himself and Xerxes from the flames that Destane shot at him. Without the Gauntlet, his magic was back to the blue-green it had been before and thus it was weaker than Destane's lilac colored magic. Néné would be so much better at this—her magic was stronger than Destane's anyway.

The flames came to a stop however, and Mozenrath saw why. Ottilia was back with Rell, and the faun had tackled the man to the ground. This time, Mozenrath didn't waste time. Pulling the Gauntlet on, he placed his hand over Destane's face, and took a breath.

His shrieks would haunt his nights for a long time, he knew that. Just like all those other people who had shrieked at having their humanity sucked from them. Rell had let go of him, and now he and Ottilia watched with distress as Mozenrath's body began to quake uncontrollably, blue and purple magic crackling over his body. Slowly the Lord King of the Land of the Black Sands began to wither, his body turning a sickly green and shriveling into one of many Mamluks. Finally Mozenrath let go, falling back and curling into himself, twitching as the magic coursed over him, the newest Mamluk simply staring at the sky, looking as dead as it could get for the moment.

Ottilia rushed to Mozenrath as Xerxes swam circles above his head. She gathered him in her arms, ignoring the sharp bite of the excess magic that he had absorbed. "Mozenrath, please wake up," she was saying. "Please. Don't die, I need you, we all need you." Rell looked up when he heard the shouts growing louder. He couldn't see anything, but he had a feeling that the mob or perhaps the courtiers were on the grounds now, perhaps the stablehands were fleeing, who knew? But he did know that while Destane was dead, it didn't mean that every danger was past.

"Ottilia…" he said, turning back to where she was. Mozenrath was grasping at her skirts now, his mutterings becoming more intelligible.

"Hurts. It hurts…" he was saying.

"I know, I know. Mozenrath, please, you've gotten rid of Destane. Please, please." And Rell recognized the shaking of his hands, the clench of his jaw, all the signs he had seen after Mozenrath had stolen the humanity from a slave. Except Destane wasn't weakened like a slave, he was strong (blooming bruises on Mozenrath's neck proved that) and had been living quite well. There was both humanity _and_ magic that had been transferred to Mozenrath, and his body didn't want it.

"Ottilia!" he grasped at her arm, pulling her away despite her protests. Xerxes followed and watched through the protective shell that Rell held up around them.

"Rell, what are you doing?' demanded Ottilia.

"You haven't been there after he's changed other people, have you? Add in the magic and—" He cut himself off, adding more energy to the shield.

Mozenrath was discharging. Magic in the form of electricity and flames was flying out of his hands and feet, his screams were horrifying, it was the most dramatic rejection of what had been stolen that Rell had ever seen. Under their feet they could feel the ground beginning to shake as he continued to claw at the ground, above their heads, they could see clouds forming, lightning striking at the ground and at the Citadel. They could hear the Cloud Dolphins shrieking as electricity crackled through their clouds, but Mozenrath had no way of stopping.

"_Amm…_" breathed Ottilia, staring in horror at how the boy was suffering. Slowly, ever so slowly, he grew quiet and still, and they rushed to him again. Ottilia alternated between horrified staring at what her husband had become and trying to wake Mozenrath. Her gentle insistences grew quiet when they heard the rumbling. Looking at each other, Ottilia transported them out of the labyrinth, and beside the grand entrance to the Citadel. With the Crown Prince lying between them, the Lady Reagent and Rell looked around them. The rumbling was growing louder, and from the stables horses were racing towards the city. There were a hundred people fleeing from their own homes, they could barely see them but it was happening.

"Oh by Amm," breathed Rell, watching as the very ground began to break apart and fall. "Ottilia…" she looked up and with a series of Words of Power, she threw up a shield around the Citadel. But while the shield protected the Citadel itself, it didn't stop the gardens and stables from falling into the quickly forming ravine. They could see whole neighborhoods falling as well, shrieks of those falling to their deaths carrying to them. Those who had raced into the Citadel were emerging, watching with the same horror as the earth around them just…fell.

* * *

><p>It took about an hour, but it all grew still. Ottilia lowered the shield, and they could see the full extent of what had happened. On the ground, Mozenrath stirred, and attention turned to him.<p>

Rell looked over him critically. Despite the fact that the reaction was larger and more dramatic, it didn't seem to do any damage to him, just shook him up a bit. "Welcome back," he said, helping him sit up.

"Did…?" murmured Mozenrath.

"You did it. He's dead and gone. But…"

"But?" Rell simply gestured and Mozenrath turned. With a shocked inhale, he struggled to his feet.

"We need to look for survivors." He turned to those behind him, both those who had stormed the Citadel and nobles who were ruffled and mussed. "All of you, go! People could be alive down there, go!" some went right away, but some remained, mainly courtiers. "You may be noble but get _down_ there! Don't tell me you want to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds?" Many more followed. Mozenrath made a move to go himself. Soon as he did, however, he collapsed, his legs not holding him.

"Mozenrath…" said Ottilia, going to him. "You can't go down there."

"I _will._ I don't want to see people I could have saved die. Amm knows why it fell like it did."

"It…it fell because of you. You absorbed both his lifeforce and his magic and when you rejected it…" said Rell softly.

"Then I _must_ help."

"If you will, then I will help you," said Ottilia, helping him stand.

Making their way down into the newly formed ravine was difficult, especially with Mozenrath so weak as he was. As they made their way, there were dozens of people helping others up, some with bloody crushed limbs and shrieking, some unconscious and there were many who were carrying up the dead. "Heal them if you can!" called Ottilia. Many looked up and nodded, returning to making their own way down or up.

"Wait, stop," said Mozenrath, his eyes closed.

"Are you tired? Do you need to rest?"

"No…Underneath. There's people underneath. I can…I can feel them. Their magic."

"Get digging! Over here!" There was a group of people who came rushing over, using their own magic to raise piles of earth. And yes, underneath was a father holding his daughter, both unconscious but alive. They were lying in what used to be their home, shards of pottery lying around them, some stuck into their skin. Helping them out, the girl was roused and began to cry from the pain. They were helped quickly up, back to where everyone was beginning to be settled in the Citadel itself to be treated. "Anywhere else?" asked Ottilia.

"Everywhere else. They're dying and we won't get to them fast enough."

"Don't give up hope."

The rescue effort continued the rest of the day, even until light spells were cast so they could see. Mozenrath needed to sit down more and more often, but he had no desire to leave, instead directing where people should search. Finally one of the volunteers approached him and said,

"Highness, I know it's not my place, but you look like death. We've been at it for hours and you haven't been standing on your own the whole time. You need to rest, we can handle this." He made to protest but Ottilia took his arm and said,

"Yes I do believe that you are right. Come on, Mozenrath, we're putting you to bed." He protested the whole way up, but he didn't have the energy to struggle.

His room was an absolute mess, but the aquarium wasn't smashed and the bed was only missing a pillow and a sheet. Small blessings. Ottilia helped Mozenrath lay down, and while he gratefully sank into the bed, he did give one last protest. "I caused it, I should help," he said.

"Mozenrath, you can't even stand on your own power," reminded Ottilia, sitting beside him. "You need your rest. Especially since someone has to tell Daccor what happened to Destane." He let out a groan; with all that had happened, he had nearly forgotten. And with Destane dead she and Auberrath would be subject to hate more obvious than before. "Sleep, Mozenrath. We'll tell her together tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The following morning, however, found Mozenrath just as weak, if not weaker than the previous day. It took Xerxes to help him stand, the eel's remarkable strength the only thing getting him upright. Leaning heavily on the wall, he slowly made his way to where Rell was helping clean the mess wrought by the mob the night before. Upon seeing him, everyone rushed to help him.<p>

"Mozenrath, what did you _do?_" demanded Rell, wading through the mass of helpers.

"I don't know," the other boy said, leaning on him soon as Rell got under his arm. "I just woke up and…"

"Something about that magical discharge, then. Doctor. Now." Mozenrath simply nodded. He knew better than to protest. They made their way to where the doctors from the City of Ortenburg as well as the Royal Physician were treating those caught in the…event of the previous day. However, when they entered, they were immediately approached by the Royal Physician. He knew perfectly well the signs of their Crown Prince's consistent injuries.

"What happened?" he asked simply, pressing his hand to Mozenrath's brow. "Follow the finger, highness."

"Apparently he just woke up and…" said Rell, trailing off as he watched an old man start wailing aloud, a sheet being pulled over an elderly woman's face. The Royal Physician didn't even turn, just continued to watch for lag in Mozenrath's eye movements.

"Finger, Mozenrath," he reminded. The boy looked at him in disbelief.

"Someone just died!" he said, gesturing to how they were taking her out, the man weeping behind them.

"Yes, and I have been awake all night trying to prevent the same thing from happening to many others. And right now I am doing that for _you._ Follow the finger."

"How many have died?" asked Rell.

"By the time you dragged this one to bed, we had about a thousand in here. By the sunrise we had doubled that. According to the records in the library, the area that fell was home to…oh roughly ten thousand? We had two thousand five hundred here, and since the first came we've lost around four hundred." Rell hissed. "Well, we've done our best. Hospitals are filling up, not to mention those who are taking in injured into their own homes. It's like they say, 'we're at our best when we're threatened.' No immediate signs of damage, I'd say."

"Then what's causing it?" asked Mozenrath. No matter how many times he had undergone some sort of treatment or another from this man, he still hated being weak.

"Magical exhaustion, perhaps? It tended to happen during wars before the Border Closing."

"Can it be fixed?"

"Yes. By resting."

"You aren't suggesting the rest cure," said Rell. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. There were horror stories about those who had been given to the rest cure.

"Amm no. I am very simply saying it would be best for him to go to his family and stay there for a while. And maybe not wear the Gauntlet. The Lady Queen told me about that particular glove." There was a sound of flurry behind them, and their doctor turned, swearing softly. "Dissel, if you would be so obliging to help his highness to a place to rest, that would be wonderful. I will check on him later. As it is, we have an emergency." And he was gone, rushing to the patient, a Hummingwoman.

"You heard him," said Rell. "We'll take you to the library." True to his word, the faun did take his friend to the vast library, settling him in a chair that had escaped the mob. "They just destroyed everything, didn't they?" muttered Rell.

They fell into quiet conversation, at least until they heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, they saw Ottilia and Daccor approaching. Ottilia's face was hard, and Daccor looked panicked, worried, and despairing. Mozenrath's own visage hardened as he had long since learned to do; he knew what was coming.

"Mozenrath," greeted Ottilia. "I think you need to talk to Lady Daccor." He nodded, and pushed himself to his feet, gesturing for the late Lord King's Mistress to sit, waving off both her concerned questions at the dark bruises on his throat and Rell's insistences that he sit.

"Daccor…you aren't going to like this," he said. "I…I hate to tell you this but, given the circumstances it seemed like the only possible option and I just…Daccor, I turned Destane into a Mamluk."

For a few moments, her pretty face remained blank, a little worried. And then what he said processed, and a high whine escaped her lips. Mozenrath, standing before her, was treated to the horrible sight of someone's world falling apart. Her face crumbled into tears and the whine evolved into an outright wail.

Curling into herself, Daccor began to sob. Rell awkwardly touched her shoulder, trying to comfort the woman he didn't really know all that well. To see her weep so, it very nearly made Rell feel bad for Destane's fate. Not entirely, though. The man had nearly killed Mozenrath time and time again, causing him brain damage that only magic had healed. The man had instated laws and ordinances that discriminated against whole species, he had brought in slavery for however short a time. The man had been a human.

Now Rell knew two women who had loved humans, Lady Daccor and Countess Ludovika. How strange the two were. How could anyone love a human?

Oh. He had said that last part out loud. Daccor, her face red with her tears, turned to him and struck him violently across the face, and he could just _tell_ that Mozenrath heard him too. Amm, he was an idiot. Not like Mozenrath had _enough_ to deal with. Internalized racism was not what he needed at the moment. Or ever, really.

"I know _you_ wouldn't understand," Daccor was saying, tears streaming down her face. "But I _loved_ him. _You,_ Rell Dissel, are a bigoted and hateful boy and you will never understand the complexities of life!" And she rushed away, skirts gathered in her hands. Rell watched her go and then turned to where his friend stood. Mozenrath had his eyes closed and was controlling his breathing.

"I'm sorry," Rell said. "It just sort of…came out. I didn't mean it." Mozenrath gave a small nod. "I…I don't think _you're _bad. I mean, you're only half human—that came out wrong I—"

"Rell," he said. "I understand." Ottilia, beside him, had remained curiously silent, simply watching.

"Mozenrath," she said, making him look to her. "I need to talk to you." And she walked into the deeper reaches of the library, Mozenrath following her. Rell remained on the ground where he had fallen.

* * *

><p>"You…wait, one more time," Mozenrath was saying, pacing while leaning very heavily on one of the bookshelves.<p>

"Destane is dead. We are in a very delicate situation," said Ottilia patiently. "After my husband dies, I am Lady Reagent again. But those who are volunteering with the injured, they are already declaring you a hero. This country is going to want you on the throne, Mozenrath."

"But you're the Lady Reagent! You just said so yourself!"

"That is not going to change people's minds. Mozenrath, when Destane came here, we were weak from our Civilian War. My father was dead and my mother was Lady Reagent. No one wants a Lady Reagent on the throne alone. Destane used that to his advantage. My mother was poisoned, Mozenrath." He stared at her. He knew that Lady Queen Dóra had died under strange circumstances but poisoned? "She was killed and I became Destane's child bride. It's not uncommon. Do you think that the ideals about a woman on the throne have changed?"

"I…"

"No, they have not. There is going to be pressure just as soon as we manage to recover from the tragedy outside the front door. Either I will abdicate and you will become Lord King or we will be pressured to marry."

"Marry? Ottilia I…I'm…"

"I wanted to warn you. This is a reality, Mozenrath." He didn't respond, mind reeling with the idea that he would have to possibly marry her. He was _fourteen_ (true his birthday was coming up, but fifteen didn't make this idea any better). "The best thing to do right now is simply deal with your magical exhaustion, yes I was told, and figure out to do about the tragedy outside."

Ah, ignore the problem. He could do that. He had done that for ages. He had practice. "Alright. Yes. Hundreds are injured and thousands are dead. We need to rebound from that. How?"

"I have never dealt with anything of this sort. I have no idea what needs be done."

"Okay. Um. Neither do I." And still he could not think clearly on everything that needed to be thought of. His mind was filled with nightmarish images of the dead, of Destane, of everything that only made things worse. "Perhaps…no, that's stupid."

"Mozenrath, you are over exhausted. Don't try and think of a solution now. Come sit down, you'll be examined soon."

* * *

><p>Mozenrath was declared to have intense magical exhaustion and sent back to Possenhof to recover. He was forbidden from performing magic and was given instructions to <em>rest<em>, no riding was not resting and honestly do you think your mother will let you ride now? _No gymnastics is not resting what is wrong with you?!_

Rell did not accompany him, instead opting to return to Zyul. Upon hearing that Auberrath had been named Duke of Zyul he had decided that he was going to go home and see his family again. Mozenrath let him go, contented with his eel. Ottilia remained in Ortenburg, helping with the injured and sitting with the dying. But she did make them promise that they would all three communicate to come up with some way to recover from the horrible event, the Land Fall of Ortenburg as it was beginning to be called.

Mozenrath was to journey to Possenhof with his aunt Sotkia, now old and completely finished with life at the royal court now that Destane was dead. She had always hated magical transportation and very happily arranged for a carriage to take them home. She had also become much more affectionate with Mozenrath now that Destane was dead.

Yes, everyone seemed to be breathing easier. He hadn't emerged from the rubble, so perhaps he would never come back again. That would be desirable indeed.

"A Wind Jackal carriage I believe would be best," Sotkia was saying. "We'll be home in a day and a half."

"I've never liked Wind Jackal carriages," Mozenrath said vaguely, instead focusing on the book in front of him, in some dead language. "I get motion sickness."

"It's the quickest way home. Since the Land Fall your mother's been fretting herself into a state. Do you even speak that language?"

"Yes. Destane taught me this one, it's the one that a lot of spells are written in. This, however, is just a book of poems. It's the only thing Ottilia allows me to read."

"She's trying to help. And do you want to have a horse carriage instead? That will take at least four days."

"Four days of travel or motion sickness, neither sound particularly appealing."

"And magical transport is bad for my heart. Pick your poison, child, or I'll give you one." He waved his hand, relieving himself of having to choose. He was so _tired_ but he was so _full of energy_ and it was a horrible halfway that he just wanted to get of immediately. "I hope you're fine with motion sickness then." He simply shrugged. It felt _good_ to respond without words again. Destane had insisted on precision of language and the ability to do whatever he wanted now (even if he had a suspicion it could not last long) was a wonderful thing.


End file.
